Incorruptible
by elusivetruth
Summary: Megan Stark intended to abandon her life as Agent Stark, aka the Iron Woman, after the Battle of NYC, but her ties have proven resilient. Her life has been turned upside down; allies have become her enemies, and enemies her allies. Now, she's walking the blurred line that separates heroes from villains. Part 2 of the "Inverse" universe. Transgender!Tony; fem!Tony; trans* issues.
1. Chapter One: Der Verführers Einzug

**Incorruptible**

_Chapter One: Der Verführers Einzug (The Tempter's Entrance)_

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Iron Man, Tony Stark, or any other Marvel intellectual property. _Incorruptible_ is a fan-based work and not sold for profit.

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><p>Brief author's note: All author's notes, including my replies to reviews, will be posted on my profile page. Feel free to send me a private message if you have questions.<p>

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><p>"This is the start of how it all ends. They used to shout my name, now they whisper it."<p>

Lorde, _Yellow Flicker Beat_

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><p><strong>Sunday, December 25th, 2005 09:26p, EST | Washington, D.C., a homeless shelter<strong>

"I'm sorry, sir, but if you don't have an ID, then we can't let you stay."

"Please," the young, raven-haired man begged, his thick, unkempt black beard shaking steadily in sync with the uncontrollable chattering of his jaw. Though the streets of the capitol were devoid of snow that evening, they were nevertheless coated with ice, picture perfect for such a frigid night. Merely stepping into the lobby of a homeless shelter did very little to dispel that pervasive cold once it had settled into one's bones so deeply. "Just for tonight? It's C-c-christmas…"

The attendant sighed wearily, averting her eyes from the pitiable man. He had been regularly attempting to stay at the shelter for nearly half a year, and she hated having to turn him away, since he had a habit of breaking into tears when rejected. "Listen, hun, I want to help you. I really do. But my hands are tied here. There's nothing I can do."

Sure enough, the man choked back a sob as his sky blue eyes began to brim with tears. Without another word, he turned on his heel and fled from the desk to the lobby doors, which he awkwardly fumbled with for a moment before finally leaving. He began to walk down the sidewalk, no particular direction beyond 'somewhere warm' in mind, but he didn't make it far from the shelter before the December air swirled violently, slamming a chilly gust into the bedraggled man causing him to lose his balance on the ice and crash down onto the sidewalk. He swore violently, his voice laced with agony as he awkwardly pulled himself to his feet. Blood dribbled from his cheek where an errant rock had dug into his flesh upon impact with the ground, and a portion of his ragged jacket's sleeve bore a freshly torn, jagged hole. If he noticed either of these things, he didn't show it, instead pulling himself weakly to his feet before stumbling over and into a nearby alcove lest the ominously howling air make good on its threat of more pain to come if he didn't seek shelter from its tender mercies.

"Goddamn body," he murmured to himself once he was relatively secure within the alcove, a lone light dimly illuminating the nearby area. He brought his hand to his cheek to inspect the damage his body's pain receptors were reporting diligently, and as his surprisingly smooth hands brushed over the offending area, the course black hairs of his out of control beard brushed against his fingers. He snatched away his hand violently at the sensation as yet another deep sob wracked his frame. _It's all just too much._ He crumbled to the ground as if his legs were jelly and curled into a tight ball, trying in vain to make his large frame smaller. Tears continued to flow freely from his tightly shut eyes as he began to mutter nonsensical gibberish to himself in as comforting a tone as he could muster (Which, needless to say, was not very comforting at all.).

"What the 'ell's wrong wit' this guy den?" a rough, deep voice called out from just outside the light of the bulb overhead. "Inner'uptin' me sleep, 'e is, Georgie."

"Do kindly keep your mouth shut, Parry. I can only hear so much of your uncivilized tongue before the urge to empty my stomach becomes too great," Georgie bit back, disgust evident in her voice. "Perhaps he's mourning having inadvertently stumbled entering your proximity? But for the advantages of keeping you nearby, I know I would."

The sound of someone pulling themselves to their feet reached the ears of the crying figure huddled up on the ground. One of his tear-filled eyes snapped open, the watery, sky blue eye locking onto the direction the noise came from, but the shadow betrayed nothing.

"Oi, what'cha doin' den?" Parry asked, his befuddlement evident.

"I should think it obvious. I am checking on the condition of our new companion," Georgie replied as she slowly entered the aura of light surrounding the fallen man, the shadows framing her features, their appearance somehow still refined despite her apparent malnourishment. Her expression was carefully neutral, spare her dark eyes which glinted with curiosity. "Humorous allusions to your status as a pariah aside, something is clearly ailing him."

The focus of her attention moaned as she bled out of the shadows. "No… Please stay away from me."

Her lips tightened into a small frown, her eyes narrowing so slightly that the movement would've been missed, had he not been watching her approach so intently. "Do you honestly believe I am going to hurt you? Perhaps you suspect I wish to make your fetching, tattered coat my own. Foolishness! Just show me what hurts. I was a doctor in a previous life; I can help."

Georgie closed the gap between them with a collected gait that, similar to her features, belied her social status. As her gloved hand descended upon the tense figure, her finger tips bare and spread wide, the man lashed out in obvious panic, crying out with a suddenly squeaky voice, "_Don't touch me_!"

She hissed as her fingernails raked her partially uncovered wrist, the yellowing cuff of her shirt having edged back in the process of reaching out. "You dastard! Why would you do such a thing!" Her face twisted as she snarled out, "Very well then… I attempted to be civil, and I will not be subjected to abuse. Perhaps an education regarding why I suffer Parry's presence is called for?" Her dark eyes gleamed wickedly as she backed away, the shadows slowly enveloping her once more. "Yes. That seems to me the proper course of action. Parry, darling? Please take out the trash."

Sky blue eyes widened fearfully as gravel ground heavily against the pavement as her companion pulled himself to his feet within the darkness. "A'ight. What'er ya say, Georgie."

"Please, no…" the man brokenly implored as the hulking form of Parry clomped over towards him. As quickly as he could, he picked himself up to flee, but staggered when his aggressor latched onto his arm with an iron grip. "You don't understand… I-I'm sorry! Please don't do this!" he cried as he began to tremble, his gaze locked onto where he was being touched, unable to look away.

"You ask for a kindness," Georgie retorted with a snort. "Yet when I proffered such before, you reacted with violence. Deplorable," she finished, shaking her head as she disappeared into the inky black entirely. "Your request is _rejected_."

"Aye, you 'eard 'er," Parry said, a lopsided grin adorning his face as he drew back his fist. "'Take ou' da trash!'" The man with the sky blue eyes braced for the impact, his face screwed up in anticipation and his eyes firmly shut. The blow never came.

"Is your hopelessness truly so deep that you will not defend yourself, Megan Stark?" a new voice asked — a voice she recognized, but never would have expected to hear again, much less at that precise moment.

Megan yelped, her sky blue eyes snapping wide open. Parry was gone and standing in his place was an unmistakable raven haired man clad in green and gold armor. "Loki," she breathed out in shock before cringing at how foreign the name sounded when uttered by her currently baritone pitched voice. "I… What?"

The trickster god gave her a distinctly unimpressed look. "How perfectly eloquent. I'm certain the historians will be anxious to record that statement in the annals of your world's history, so your wisdom can be shared with the generations that follow you."

She flushed, though most of it was obscured beneath the thick black beard on her face. "Yes, well, given my current circumstances, I…" She clenched her male body's eyes shut as fresh tears began to flood out. _Ordinarily, I wouldn't take my eyes off of him, but… he does have a point._ "You're… not wrong. Why _should_ I protect myself at this point? Why fight to keep myself alive, when my reward is continuing to live like this? As… as _male_!" Her Asgardian companion began to laugh, the absurdity of his timing catching her off guard. "I'm sorry, is my situation _funny_ to you, Odinson?"

Loki's eye twitched at being referred to in such a manner, but he bit back the scathing remark he had nearly uttered. _She's on the tipping point. I can't push her any further, or she'll break irreparably. _"Not at all. I simply found your priorities very… you. I imagine that those who don't know you would have been flabbergasted by your having ranked 'being male' as a greater problem than 'homeless,' 'starving,' 'identity stolen,' and so on."

The color of her flush intensified. "Yes, well… In my opinion, it is."

He smirked. "As I said before: 'Very you.' As for your 'situation,' as you referred to it, it is quite obviously unacceptable," Loki retorted. "What has me puzzled, however, is why you do nothing when you have risen above similar hurdles before. You were born into a male body, yet that did not stop you from being your true self. What is stopping you now?"

Megan frowned, idly noticing that she was no longer shivering uncontrollably and that the air around them was, if anything, quite warm. Whether or not it was an illusion hardly mattered to her at that moment; the reprieve was welcome. "'Those who don't know you…' 'Your true self…' You're implying a level of familiarity with me I wasn't aware you possessed, Loki." She paused, waiting for a response from the trickster god, but after a minute of him gracing her with nothing more than the same, secretive smirk, she eventually ground out, "Well?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he smugly quipped back. "Was there a question in there? I thought you were just making an observation."

Her eye twitched violently as she physically restrained herself from slapping the smirk off of his face. "Don't be a dick. A question was clearly implied." A mocking smirk of her own danced across her lips. "Or is the illustrious Loki such a poor verbal jouster that he needs me to spell it out for him in order to save him from being run through?"

_Good. She's regaining some of her usual vigor. She just needs a bit more._ "Not at all, milady. I simply did not want to appear presumptuous. The implicit question in your observations is 'How is it that I have obtained this level of familiarity with you?' The answer is simple: I did my research. As I'm feeling generous, I will answer the question you will likely follow up with: 'Why did I research you?' The answer to that question, however, is somewhat more complex." He gestured beside her with his hand, a chair appearing there that, in Megan's opinion, looked exceedingly comfy. "Please have a seat. I would be remiss to give you a lengthy explanation while you stand there as tired as you are.

Megan eyed the chair doubtfully, carefully probing it with her finger. Satisfied that the chair was real, at least for the moment (_I swear, if he makes this disappear from underneath me, I will break his pretty face. Wait, did I just seriously refer to his face as 'pretty'? I really do need some rest…_), she slowly lowered herself into its cushiony embrace, eventually beginning to relax. Once she was seated, Loki elegantly sat down into the thin air behind himself, a regal, throne-like chair materializing beneath him as he did so. She rolled her eyes at the sight, playfully remarking, "If my priorities are 'very me,' then that chair is 'very you.'"

The trickster god chuckled lightly, his voice eliciting a small smile from her. "I'm confident that we can both agree that being true to oneself is important, right Megan?"

She quirked an eyebrow at that. "I agree, yes, but when did we arrive at a first-name-basis?"

"You've referred to me as 'Loki' for how long now?"

"Touché. Now, why did you research me?"

"Originally, it was because you have foiled me at every turn. Without you, Thor could not stopped the Bifrost without destroying it. Without you, the 'Avengers' (He uttered the moniker with obvious distaste.), would never have pieced together that my underling could control other's minds, much less how. Without you, my destruction of your ship would have massacred all but a handful of people. I needed to know more about you, to know how to handle you in the future."

"You're right," Megan replied with a hint of mirth, reveling in her growing feeling of security. "That was definitely longer than 'I did my research.'"

Loki released a distinctly undignified snort. "Quite."

She gazed curiously at him, her bloodshot, sky blue eyes squinted (Whether from several minutes of crying or from suspicion was unclear.). "Why are you here?"

He glanced away for a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face so briefly that she nearly missed it despite how closely she was watching him. Steeled, he continued. "My curiosity led me to the discovery that you had saved my life. Without you, I would have been caught in the wake of what you humans call a 'nuclear' weapon. My brother foolishly thought me confined, defeated by his hand; obviously I was not, or I would not be here with you tonight. Regardless, the point is that humans think us immortal; we are not. Had you not changed that weapon's course, I would have died. I… feel indebted to you. And I see the potential for me to repay that debt in a way that I am comfortable with." He leaned back into his chair, his lips twisting into a light smirk. "Now, I have generously answered two of your questions, and I am still awaiting the answer to mine: What is stopping you from being yourself, Megan? You did so once before when you were but a child."

She scoffed, unaware that her voice's pitch had begun to rise. "I did that when I was six, yes, but the circumstances now are a great deal more difficult to overcome. There's a huge difference between the only child of Howard and Maria Stark transitioning and a homeless man with no government identification, no money, and no friends transitioning."

"And yet, your intact intellect has not been able to conjure up a single alternative avenue to become yourself once more?" the trickster quipped back.

"You've used that terminology a couple of times now: 'Be yourself,'" Megan remarked, her head cocked slightly to the side, her curiosity evident. "Tell me, Loki, who do _you_ think I am?"

The Asgardian steepled his hands in front of himself, taking a moment to carefully consider his choice of words, before replying, "You are a female spirit trapped within a body that repulses you so much that you cannot bear to be touched. Your spirit cries out, desperately pleading for you to feel touch upon your true self once more — to shed this lie you have been forced into. You have done your best to deal with being thrust into this form, done your best to return yourself to normal, but it affects you so much that you have become trapped in a perpetuating circle. Needing to be yourself again, but unable to make it happen because you are not. Even what you are experiencing now is a temporary reprieve. You feel better because you are interacting with me, someone who knows you for who you are, but eventually, the feeling will be tempered by the truth of your situation, which will grow ever more unavoidable." He paused. "Simply put, you are someone who will invariably die unless someone helps you."

The duo sat there in silence for a time, Megan's eyes locked onto his, boring into them as though the truth of his words could be ascertained if she merely stared into them long enough. She was losing herself in a sea of pale green, his words washing over and through her, his baritone voice piercing straight to her core. _I don't want to go back to that._ "Loki," she breathed out, now aware that her words were spoken by her true, soprano voice. "I don't want to die." She bit her lip softly, her conflict evident. Her upper teeth rubbed briefly against the skin beneath her bottom lip, revealing that her face was once again free of the course beard it had born for so long. The word danced from her lips: "Please…"

A toothy smile began to grow on the Asgardian's lips. _Almost._ "Please what, Megan?"

She whined softly at his use of her name, reveling in the fact that for the first time in nigh half a year _someone_ saw her as herself. She wrapped her arms around herself, reveling in the feeling of the return of her voice's true timbre — of the return of her petite frame. _Gods, I don't care if it _is_ an illusion. _"Please, Loki… Help me… I don't want to go back."

"That, Megan, is why I am here."

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><p><strong>Tuesday, July 12th, 2005 10:02a, EST | Stark Tower, NYC<strong>

"Morning, Danny," Megan said as she entered the tower's dining area where she, Danny, and Bruce eat their meals together.

The brunette tore his gaze from the laptop in front of him, which he'd been using to idly scan the news, and moved it to her. Her usual, disheveled appearance upon waking up brought a smile to his face. "Good morning to you too, Meg! You're up early. What's the occasion?" he cheerfully replied before grabbing a fresh piece of toast and beginning to prepare it with butter and jam.

The raven-haired genius replied, "Nightmare," before yawning and following up indignantly, "And you are _entirely_ too cheerful. How I manage with two morning people living under my roof is beyond me."

He gave her an utterly unrepentant grin. "Who can say 'no' to this face? And as for Bruce, ew — we aren't discussing that," he quipped, earning a piece of toast thrown at his face by his 'sister.'

"Mhm, something like that," she replied, sticking her tongue at him as she set about preparing her own breakfast, a simple bowl of cereal. The moment after she finished pouring the milk over the cereal, Jarvis intoned, "There's someone at the front door for you ma'am."

She groaned heavily in response. "Perfect timing … Who is it, Jarvis?"

After a moment of silence, the AI replied, "She is delivering an undisclosed document. I have analyzed her person and determined that you are being served."

"Ah… right," she replied after a moment, taking stock of her appearance. Thankfully, she was more dressed than she had been the last time she was served, due in no small part to Danny's presence. "Well, tell her I'll be down in a second."

"Wait, why?" the brunette asked with a confused expression. "You're not officially served until they hand the subpoena to you, right? So why go take it at all?"

"Danny!" she reprimanded with a frown, turning back from the door she had nearly exited through. "It's not fair for me to dodge a subpoena like that just because I have technology that allows me too."

He scoffed, "If there's one thing I learned on the streets, it's that life isn't 'fair,' Meg. If you have an advantage, you should exploit it."

"Oh? So I should scrap the Stark Foundation for LGBTQ+ Youth? Keep one of my biggest advantages, my money, to myself?"

Danny cringed at that. "I… Well…"

Megan sighed, crossed the room to where he was still sitting, and hugged him around his shoulders. "Danny, you're not wrong, but you're not right either. There's a fine line with these things. Sometimes, giving away one of your advantages is the right thing to do, and other times, you need to keep it to yourself. I'm going downstairs because even though I could be the untouchable princess in her tower, I recognize that using my power like that is corrupt." She giggled then. "Besides, they'd eventually just send the big guns. Wastes less time to tackle the problem head on."

"Okay, okay," the teen responded, half abashedly, half laughingly. "Point taken."

"Good!" she replied. "Now then, I need to get down there. I'll be back for that breakfast soon, okay?" As she made her way over to the door into the hallway where the elevator lied, she called out, "And Jarvis, would you please tell Bruce that I need to eat breakfast still, but I'll be up soon?"

"Of course, ma'am," her AI intoned as walked into the elevator that Jarvis had summoned and left open for her.

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><p><em>'You are hereby ordered to appear at the July 14th, 02:00p session of the U.S. Senate Armed Forces Committee hearing to testify regarding your continued possession of the 'Iron Woman' armor despite your discharge from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division on March 16<em>_th__, 2005. Address follows.'_

"Seriously? These guys need to get a hobby or something," Megan remarked as she glanced at the subpoena. Her sky blue eyes flicked up to look at the blonde carrier, briefly glazing over before she commented, "You served me in California too, didn't you? The must pay you some good money, if you're traveling all over the U.S. to deliver subpoenas."

"It's a living," the carrier remarked with a shrug before turning on her heel and hopping back into her waiting taxi.

"Fair enough…" she murmured to herself as she made her way back into the tower. "And two days is more reasonable notice than last time, at least. Jarvis, is my schedule clear?"

"Yes, ma'am. Beyond your usual work, the only other event on your schedule for the day is your meeting with Aldrich Killian at 11:00a."

"Mmm, I'd almost forgotten about that…" she noted as she walked into the waiting elevator, which began to rapidly ascend, taking her back to her, by now, soggy cereal. "Happy was insisting on escorting me to that, right?"

"That's correct, ma'am."

"Then please send him a message so he knows about the hearing and also a message to the flight crew for my jet."

The elevator reached the floor with the dining area not long after, and when she made her way into it, she found not two brunettes waiting for her instead of one. "Hey, Pearl," Bruce said over her bowl of cereal with a smile. "I figured I'd eat this for brunch, so you could have something that wasn't soggy."

Megan returned the smile with a brilliant one of her own. Her beau knew her well. Even if the food had been soggy, she would have eaten it anyway, as she hated to waste food. "Thanks, my wyrm. Working on anything interesting upstairs?"

"Nothing too exciting, really," he replied, placing a kiss on her cheek as she passed by to grab a fresh bowl of cereal. "So what's the subpoena for?"

"The suit, surprise surprise. Honestly, it was just a matter of time. S.H.I.E.L.D. secured me a stay of execution last time, but now that I'm no longer with them, I'll have to face the music by myself." A new bowl of cereal prepared, she sat down next to Bruce, across from Danny, at the table. "At this point, I'm just hoping they haven't roped Phil or somebody else I trust into testifying that I'm a danger to society while the suit's my property. My publicity is… mixed after the NYC debacle."

"You're lucky nobody in the press has pieced together my part in that mess," Bruce replied, "or the military would knocking on our door as we speak… To be honest, I'm surprised Ross hasn't leaked it in the hopes of finally having an excuse to go after me again."

Megan took a couple of bites from her cereal, thinking over the probabilities of such a situation occurring, before finally replying, "No, that's unlikely to happen, unless he's willing to risk his career. The moment the Hulk is tied to you, the press will find a way to dig up your past, and that will invariably lead them back to Ross. His career would be over; nobody would want a general like him. Beyond that point, S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't separated us because, despite the fact that I've left them, the fact remains that you are significantly safer when you're with me."

"Yeah, that sounds accurate; especially the part regarding S.H.I.E.L.D.," he agreed. "What's the game plan for the hearing then? Any thoughts?"

"Unless I think of something new between point A and point B, the plan's to go with the argument I would have given last time, if S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't taken the heat in my stead: First and foremost, the 'Iron Woman' can't be their property because _I _am the Iron Woman, and that's indentured servitude at best. As for the suit itself, I'll attempt to convince them that it's not a weapon — it's an advanced prosthetic. If they insist on defining it as a weapon, I'll point out that out of everyone in the world, I am the most qualified handler for it, and that taking it from me and giving it to someone else actually _increases_ the risk of danger. If _that_ fails, then I'll point out that if they decide to take my suit that I can, and will, appeal their determination to a Court of Appeals. Unless they somehow convince the court to convene an emergency session, that will buy me a couple of months, during which time I'll 'levy my assets to my advantage' (i.e., I'll either find or create blackmail that will make them wish they'd never dicked around with me. I can't actually _say_ that, but they'll get the message if I have to contact them personally in the meantime to drive the point home.). Worst case scenario at that point, I'll use the bought time to figure out a better plan, at the very least. Maybe build a self-sufficient space station that orbits the moon? Nobody has a valid land claim there, that I'm aware of."

Danny stared blankly at her, his laptop long since forgotten. Bruce just smiled and quipped back, "Well, it's good to have a plan."

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><p><strong>Thursday, July 14th, 2005 10:54a, EST | Washington, D.C.<strong>

"I still don't like the idea of you meeting this guy alone, Megan," Happy grumbled as he deftly steered the car through the awful inner-city traffic. "I'm the Chief of Security now, and it's my jo—"

"Happy," Megan interrupted with a weary sigh, "thank you very much for being such an exuberant (_Total understatement..._) Chief of Security, but we've been over this. It's just a quick tech demonstration, he understandably wants to keep it as confidential as possible because it involves trade secrets, and he's not some random stranger."

"A guy you've met all of once before isn't that much better than a 'random stranger,' Meg," her ex-bodyguard drawled back.

The petite woman sighed as she shifted anxiously in her seat, readjusting her crossed legs so the left was on top. "You're not wrong, last time I saw Aldrich was six years ago at that technical conference in Bern, and he was… kind of creepy, if I'm being honest. Still, I need to see this tech demonstration. He said his think tank's nearly completed Maya Hansen's project that she showed me at the conference. You remember that, right? The explosion at the hotel when you pulled the leaf off of her plant?"

Happy grimaced at the memory. The explosion he caused was definitely one of his biggest failures as a bodyguard, since but for his actions, nothing would have happened. "Yeah, I remember… Actually, didn't you help with her with it?"

"I gave her some of my thoughts on it, yes, but I doubt my five minutes of thinking and hastily written out thoughts on the formula were very helpful." She glanced out the window in thought, unconsciously rubbing the prosthetic portion of her left leg. "The point is, if A.I.M. has come close to completing the formula, then a joint venture with them would be a good idea for Stark Industries. The technology would, at the very least, be an alternative to our prosthetics line, if not replace us altogether. Aldrich specifically requested me instead of Pepper, so I _need_ to go to this demonstration." She turned her gaze from the window back to rearview mirror where Happy was occasionally glancing back at her. "Besides," she added, "if he tries anything unsavory, I'll zap him." She snapped her fingers, a small flare of electricity occurring as she did so — the byproduct of her brief stint as the owner of Mjölnir.

The driver released a resigned sigh but otherwise said nothing as he parked the car at the venue A.I.M. had named. Appreciating why she needed to go didn't mean he had to like it, and admittedly, her strange new power _was_ a certain degree of insurance for her safety. Seeing that they'd arrived, Megan unbuckled herself, opened the door, and slid out of the car, a smile growing on her face as her upper thighs rubbed together, the feeling reminding her that she now had the genitalia she knew she should've had since birth. Her birthday this year had fallen on a Sunday, so she hadn't been able to have the surgery the moment she turned twenty-five, but by the end of the thirtieth, her genitalia had finally been remolded. Her recovery had lasted a handful of weeks (During which time she nearly drove Bruce and Danny, who had to deal with her full time, crazy as she insisted on working from bed.), ending last week.

The thought of how she and Bruce had celebrated the end of her recovery made her flush, and that only served to remind her that the celebrations had been… ongoing, and included the night prior. Happy, who had leaned over to the right side of the car after pressing the button to lower the passenger window, looked up to check on her and noticed. "You okay there, Meg?"

"Yes!" Megan squeaked out, altogether too fast, eliciting a quirked eyebrow from him. "I, err…" she muttered as she collected herself. "I was just thinking about…" _Meg, listen to yourself! Are you seriously about to tell Happy you were thinking about you and Bruce having sex!?_ "Err… it's… a girl thing."

The color of his face rapidly changed to match the hue of hers from a moment prior, and he muttered something that vaguely sounded like, "I don't want to know," which elicited a giggle from the petite woman.

She turned her attention back to the surprisingly nondescript location. _I know Aldrich said this is just an outpost of sorts, but still, I expected something… different for the think tank that's working out how to regrow lost or damaged limbs!_ "I'll see you at one o'clock, right?"

"On the dot," he replied, attempting to recover his composure.

"Okay." She smiled. "Thank you for agreeing to drive me out, Happy. This feels like old times."

Happy returned her smile. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

She gave him a jaunty wave then turned away and headed into the building, her red pumps clicking on the sidewalk along the way. Inside, a man sharply dressed in a light gray suit, open top black button-up shirt combo gave her a brilliantly white smile as he greeted her, "Megan! It's so good to see you after all this time!"

Megan blinked, nonplussed for a moment before realization struck her. "Aldrich!" she exclaimed. "Wow! I barely recognized you, you've changed so much!" Her eyes raked over him once more, taking note of the changes. His blonde hair was pristinely styled and swept back, his thickly framed glasses were gone altogether, his smile was perfect, and despite the absence of his cane, his posture was impeccable. She couldn't help herself: She blushed. "You look great. You look _really_ great."

He laughed at that. "Yes, I suppose I _have_ changed a bit since New Year's Eve 1999. Though in my opinion, _you_ are the one who's 'changed so much.'" He gestured at her pristine white pant-suit and the red blouse underneath that was simultaneously tasteful yet flattering — her arc reactor on full display — and also matched her hair's highlights and her mother's pumps, which she had decided to wear for much the same reason she had at the Stark Demonstration just over a year ago: She wanted to channel her mother's courage, in the hopes that the press conference would end in her favor. "You are stunning, Meg. Age has only enhanced your beauty."

"T-thank you, Aldrich. That's sweet of you to say," she murmured, her blush intensifying, beginning to match the hue of her red attire. _Pull it together, Meg! You're acting like a school girl for heaven's sake!_ "I'm sorry, I've gotten us off point, haven't I? I'm very excited to see where you are with Maya's work. I believe you said you're calling it Extremis?"

"Oh, I have an incredible demonstration planned." He gave her a winning smile and gestured for her to follow him as he set off at a light pace down the hall. "As it so happens," he continued after they had begun walking, "the changes you noticed between the old me and the new me are the first example I have to show you."

Megan's eyebrows shot up a mile. "I'm sorry? You're saying you've used the technology on yourself? I was under the impression the formulae were still under development?"

"There are some… kinks that are still being worked out, but the benefits of the technology are so strong that we decided to move forward with human testing despite the side effects."

"I… see," she replied. "Well, I'm familiar with the benefits from what you've told me. Admittedly, I'm… concerned by the potential for weaponizing this technology. I'm in the business of prosthetics to help people live, not to help them kill others. Still, it's something I'm confident our lawyers can hammer out terms that would alleviate my worries in that regard. As for the side effects, what exactly are we talking about here?"

Megan's prosthetic leg suddenly stopped functioning, sending the caught off guard genius crashing to the ground. "Fuck!" she exclaimed, as she twisted mid-air to avoid landing on her face, putting her left side in the line of fire. She cried out in pain as she connected solidly with the floor, her shoulder dislocating from the impact.

While she was falling, Aldrich had swiftly retrieved a filled syringe from a case in his pocket and, before she could react from her position on the ground, he stabbed her with the needle and depressed the plunger. "Our second demonstration will showcase the primary side effect we discovered."

Immediately, she began to scream and writhe, her veins felt as though they were filled with liquid fire. Electricity flared out from her body reflexively, blasting back a surprised Aldrich, but it rapidly began to fizzle out. The panicked genius attempted to summon up the power again, hoping to fight back, but instead of feeling the expected jolt of current, she felt a very different jolt. Her body began to change: She was growing in size, muscle mass, and height, her clothes rapidly becoming ill fitting to the point that they began to tear away altogether; her smooth skin began to grow rougher and sprout coarse, black hair body hair; her scream, though undying in intensity, began to fall dramatically in pitch; the receptors for her prosthetic leg rose to the surface of her skin and burst through, the skin healing over promptly; the prosthetic itself fell off as the missing portion of her limb began to grow anew; the shining blue arc reactor in her sternum slowly pushed its way out of the hole in her sternum together with a multitude of small metal shards — the shrapnel that had been present in her nearly two years — leaving a gaping wound that sealed immediately after; and her genitalia, which had finally been remolded only two months prior to how it ought to have been, made a frightening return, reaching a size larger than it had been after a life of hormone replacement therapy.

The whole process took only moments, but to Megan, it felt like an eternity, the pain blinding due to how massive and multitudinous her changes were. Eventually, the pain subsided leaving only the thrum of fire in her veins, the relief of having numerous health issues suddenly gone, and a crawling feeling all over her that her body felt _wrong_. "What ha—" she began to wearily ask, before she slapped a hand over her mouth as the pupils of her sky blue eyes shrank until they were practically nonexistent, the pitch of her voice sending her into a frenzied panic. _No! No, no, _no_! Please tell me this is just a nightmare! I'm going to wake up in a minute, and Bruce will be there next to me, ready to comf—_

"As you can see," Aldrich said, interrupting her panicked train of thought, "Extremis performs its regrowth based off of one's DNA rather than self-perception. Any cosmetic surgery or similar procedures the subject has previously undergone are wiped away as if they had never happened."

"_NO_!" Megan screamed, her voice shrill yet distinctly masculine in timbre. "No, no, _no_!"

"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd be dissatisfied with the results, regrown leg or not. In fact, that's not the only unpleasant side effect, but I imagine you're a tad bit more occupied with this one at the moment."

She began to hyperventilate, sobs wracking her now male body as tears began to flood her vision. The room was beginning to spin and go black, her mind unable to process what was happening. The last memory she had before everything went black was Aldrich smugly remarking, "That concludes my presentation."

* * *

><p>Aldrich watched smugly as his underlings ripped off what little of Megan's clothes remained remotely intact until she was entirely bare and began to slip her male body into the type of worn and battered clothes that many homeless men wore. "That went well," he idly commented to the woman standing next to him — a perfect doppelgänger of Megan Stark.<p>

"Yes, but I hate that this was necessary," she replied with a wince. "It was… hard to watch, to say the least."

"I can only imagine, my beautiful pearl," he responded before turning to her and softly cupping her face. "I'm sorry our plan requires so much of you."

"Don't be," she said with a small smile. "It's only fair that I do my part to save the world." She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed him firmly on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

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><p>"Sir, are you okay?" the police officer inquired, his mag light lit but aimed slightly away to avoid blinding the sleeping, raven haired homeless man when he opened his eyes.<p>

Megan's eyes shot wide open, her sky blue irises frantically snapping back and forth and unable to focus, and she let loose a brief, wordless scream, the masculine pitch of which only served to deepen the rapidly developing panic attack. "No, no, no," she began to mutter incessantly as she began to rapidly pat down her body, her movements becoming frenzied as her hands confirmed that her body was one that clearly proclaimed 'male.'

The officer's eyebrows furrowed as he took a step back from the hectic Megan. "Sir, have you been drinking tonight?"

"_No_!" she screamed back at him, his breathes short and ragged. "I-I-I can't… N-n-n-nightmare, please, please, please…"

"Sir, I need you to calm down for me," the officer said, attempting to placate the frenzied Megan.

"_Help me_," she moaned as her eyes finally managed to focus on the nearby officer. "Attacked… Please h-help…"

"Dispatch," the officer's nearby partner directed into his radio, "we have an individual who's claiming to have been attacked and is presently having a panic attack. We need EMS at the corner of V Street northeast and third street northeast, over."

"Sir," the original officer asked with as calm a voice as he could muster, "I need you to tell me who attacked you…"

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><p><strong>Sunday, December 25th, 2005 09:59p, EST | Washington, D.C., an alcove near a homeless shelter<strong>

"No one believed me, of course," Megan said with a sigh, regaling the trickster god with her tale. "No one would believe that I was Megan Stark, much less _how_ my body had changed… My family might have, if I could have reached them, but my doppelgänger made sure all contact between my family and me was impossible."

"It is outlandish, even to me," Loki admitted, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. "What your world can do with this… 'science' is fascinating. To recreate what only magic could accomplish, all without a drop of mana…"

"Mana?" the raven-haired woman queried.

Her companion lifted his right hand, aiming his palm at the wall to his right, and released a wave of ice, flash freezing the wall into a solid sheet of ice. "Reserves of magic. You didn't think magic was fueled by nothing, did you, Megan?"

"Fascinating…" she murmured, her eyes raking over the fruits of his magical display. "This explains Heimdall's condition when I first went to Asgard. I thought all magic was created by weapons like Mjölnir and Gungnir… I suppose the knowledge I was given when I took up Mjölnir wasn't complete." Her sky blue orbs found his pale green counterparts. "Am I correct in guessing mana isn't something all Asgardians have?"

Loki nodded his head in confirmation, a light grin on his lips. _She catches on quickly. This was definitely the correct course of action… I'm liking her more and more._ "Yes. Though I am not truly Asgardian, but rather Jotun, it is nevertheless true that all races have variance regarding who possesses mana reserves." Seeing she was satisfied, albeit curious, but his answer (_Since she's not asking what a 'Jotun' is, she must have already known from the wealth of knowledge she gained when she claimed Mjölnir. Likely, this means she's pondering how Thor and I came to be 'brothers' but isn't asking because she can sense it may be a sensitive topic. _Very_ good…_), he added, "Thank you for telling me the whole story of how you came to be like this. Having the full details is helpful."

"Of course," she replied, unconcerned. "It's impossible to solve an equation unless you have all the variables, after all."

"The… variables?" he asked, one eyebrow elegantly quirked questioningly.

"The influencing factors," she supplied sheepishly, having briefly forgotten that although Asgard primarily (and miraculously) spoke English, Asgardian English was very archaic in vocabulary. "Speaking of which," she added, her gaze becoming intent, "I cannot begin to thank you enough for helping me. You said earlier that you saw 'the potential for you to repay that debt in a way that you're comfortable with,' and I know you said you're doing this because I saved your life, yet…" She worried her lip for a moment, preparing for potential backlash, before continuing. "Yet I can't shake the feeling that you aren't doing this purely out of the kindness of your heart. Your moniker, 'the trickster god,' is well deserved as I understand it."

If anything, the Asgardian appeared smug upon hearing her question. "Excellent. Despite all other distractions, you still noticed my wording and remained appropriately cautious. Ordinarily, I would frown on you showing me your hand so clearly, but it made determining whether you were wary of me very easy."

Megan stared at the raven-haired trickster. _Well, shit._ "So… What exactly do you get out of doing this, besides repayment of a life debt?"

"I consider the life debt owed by me to you fully repaid, in light of my restoring your body to what your spirit has always yearned for," Loki carefully explained. "That aside, I have an offer that I hope you will consider."

She considered him for a time, watching carefully for any sign of disingenuousness. Eventually, with her eyes carefully focused on his, she asked, "My body is permanently restored — not an illusion?"

"Yes," the Asgardian evenly replied, matching her seriousness and meeting her gaze.

_No dilation in his pupils… I'm confident a Jotun's body must have some differences from that of a human, but given my unfamiliarity with how they tick, I'll have to stick with what works on humans and hope they're appropriate analogues. I know I'm biased in wanting what he says to be true, but still… I'll assume he's not lying. _"Please tell what you have in mind."

The Asgardian gave her a toothy smile as he drew a circle in the air between them with his index finger, a ring of light tracing its movement. When the light had formed a complete circle, a scene from a press conference not long after her attack began to play out, showing Aldrich Killian and Megan's doppelgänger shaking hands with the news title 'Stark Industries partnership with Advanced Idea Mechanics' emblazoned below them. "You have your body back, but I imagine you will want to reclaim your life from your doppelgänger and will want revenge for the atrocities this 'Aldrich Killian' did to you. I will help you, Megan, on the condition that you will be my ally from this day forward."


	2. Chapter Two: The Embrace of Demons

**Incorruptible**

_Chapter Two: The Embrace of Demons_

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Iron Man, Tony Stark, or any other Marvel intellectual property. _Incorruptible_ is a fan-based work and not sold for profit.

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><p>Brief author's note: All author's notes, including my replies to reviews, will be posted on my profile page. Feel free to send me a private message if you have questions.<p>

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><p>"When you feel my heat, look into my eyes. It's where my demons hide — it's where my demons hide."<p>

Imagine Dragons, _Demons_

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><p><strong>Friday, December 31st, 1999 011:47p, CET | Bern, Switzerland<strong>

"Ms. Stark, may I have a moment of your time?"

Megan stealthily and quickly breathed in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, a futile attempt to manage her nerves, which had become quite frayed over the course of the evening. _It's not their fault,_ she intoned to herself, a silent mantra she had been repeating throughout the night. The nineteen-year-old had slowly begun to become more of a public figure since her time as a teacher's assistant for one of her M.I.T. classes, having recognized that being more of a 'people person' would help her in social situations, but there was only so much she could handle in a given period of time. Regrettably, she had reached her limit about a half hour ago.

"Yes, you may, sir," she robotically replied, resigning herself to going through the process of meeting someone new for what felt to her the thousandth time that evening. Her companions, Maya Hansen and Happy Hogan, came to a halt together with the young woman and turned with her to face the newcomer.

"Thank you," Ho Yinsen replied, seeing that he had acquired her attention. The middle-eastern man gestured to his own companion, a somewhat aged, Chinese gentleman, "I would like to introduce you to our guest, Dr. Wu."

Megan lit up a bit upon seeing the doctor and stuck out her hand for a handshake, a gesture which Wu accepted with an approving expression as she said, "A pleasure to meet you, doctor. Am I correct in presuming that you are the same Dr. Wu who is doing some work with my mother's charity?"

"Indeed, I am, and it is a pleasure to meet you as well," he replied with a slight smile. "Your mother often speaks of you and always with great affection. She was especially proud of your recent graduation from M.I.T. Double master's degrees in four years, am I correct? Mechanical Engineering and Electrical Engineering and Computer Science?"

"Ah yes," Yinsen interjected. "Ms. Stark's work with integrated circuits during her time at the institute was why I invited her to speak here tonight."

_And why I want to hear her thoughts about how to fix the problems with Extremis…_ Maya thought to herself, as she watched the young woman blush under the praise of the two men.

"You're too kind. Thank you," Megan replied, her eyes darting over to her companions. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I promised Ms. Hansen some of my time. And, err, to be honest, I'm not the best with crowds."

"Not at all," Yinsen said, his and Wu's posture showing no offense was taken. "Thank you again for your inspiring speech, Ms. Stark."

Anxious to get to relative solitude, Megan turned to Happy, latched onto his arm, and muttered just loud enough for him to hear, "I _really_ want to get inside now, please."

"Of course," Happy replied with a knowing expression as he deftly began to steep her through the crowd, Maya following in their wake.

"Finally," the teen said as the trio turned the corner, bringing the elevators to Maya's room into view, a mere couple of yards away. _I have never been so happy to see an elevator in my life!_

She had not escaped yet, however. "Hey, Megan!" a nearby male voice cried out, eliciting a visible cringe from the petite genius.

"Elevator, Happy," she muttered to her bodyguard before plastering a fake smile onto her face and turning to the approaching man. "That's my name," she quipped, her eyebrows rising at the sight of him. His blazer and t-shirt combo, the latter of which was emblazoned with a logo proclaiming 'A.I.M.,' was the sort of mixture of casual and classy that worked on some people but, in her opinion, simply didn't on him. Overall, he had a very geeky appearance, due in no small part to his over-sized glasses and long, unkempt blonde hair. Compared with the rest of the hotel's occupants, who were largely dressed fashionably for the New Year celebration, he stood out like a sore thumb. Happy smoothly moved to the elevators and hit the 'up' button, but as fate would have it, the closest of the six of the elevators was nearly ten flights away.

"Aldrich Killian," the man proudly introduced himself with a toothy smile as he walked over, his back hunched over as he used a crutch to support what appeared to be a weak leg. Once he reached the two women, he grabbed Megan's hand and beginning to shake it without her consent. She seized up, her eyes wide and locked onto him, a hint of panic in them. "I'm a big fan of your work."

"Y-y-you're too kind," she automatically responded before she managed to collect her wits and snatched her hand away from him like she had been burned by his touch.

If Aldrich had noticed her reaction, which he certainly might not have given his obvious lack of social grace, he didn't show it as he blithely continued, his eyes moving to the side and locking onto the older woman beside her. "And Maya Hansen! My organization has been tracking your research since year two of M.I.T." He immediately grabbed her hand and began to shake it as he had Megan's, eliciting a bewildered look from the straight-haired brunette.

A light 'ting' rang out as the elevator arrived. _Salvation!_ Megan internally cheered. "Gotta go," the teen muttered, already hustling over to the elevator. "Happy New Year and what not."

Maya quickly followed the raven-haired woman into the elevator, Happy having held the door for her, but although the bodyguard immediately moved to stand in the way of the entrance once Maya had passed, Aldrich ducked under the man's outstretched arms, slipping into the elevator just in time.

"Ah," Megan said, miraculously resisting the urge to rudely groan as the elevator smoothly slid into motion upwards. "You made it." She fidgeted as the blonde-haired man's eyes locked onto her once more, his somewhat stalker demeanor and persistence beginning to creep her out.

Happy didn't miss the look on his charge's face. He fixed the overly exuberant Aldrich with a scowl as he maneuvered himself between him and Megan. "What floor you going to, pal?"

"Well now, _that_ is an appropriate question," Aldrich remarked with a chuckle as he began to blindly fish around in his inner jacket pocket, his eyes never leaving Megan's sky blue orbs. "The ground floor, actually, of a proposal I'm putting together myself. It's a privately funded think tank called 'Advanced Idea Mechanics.'" Finally finding what he was searching for, he withdrew two business cards and practically thrust them at the two women, each embossed with a logo prominently featuring the acronym 'A.I.M.'

"She'll take both," Megan responded as she backed away from his outstretched arm, eyeing the business card dubiously. Maya gave the younger woman a bemused expression, clearly more at ease with their collective situation, and took both of the cards from the exuberant Aldrich.

"'Advanced Idea Mechanics,' or 'A.I.M.' for short. You get it?" he proudly noted, pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, I see that 'cause it's on your t-shirt," the raven-haired woman remarked, her efforts to remain civil beginning to erode.

"Haaa!" Aldrich laughed, drawing his laugh out as the elevator finally slid to a halt and opened its doors onto the floor where Maya's hotel room was. Happy moved to the exit, planting one foot in the doorway and using his large frame to cause the blonde-haired man to take a step back, clearing the way for the petite Megan. "You'll call, right?" he asked as she hastily began to slip out of the elevator, carefully keeping Happy between them. "Right?"

A myriad of emotions running through her, anger in particular crackling within her like a lightning storm, she turned to him and regarded him with cold blue eyes as she icily remarked, "No."

"N-no?" the blonde-haired man repeated, as if he were unsure that was what she had said.

"Oh good, and here I was thinking you couldn't take a hint," she bit back, eliciting a shocked look from Maya and a knowing look from Happy, who was aware that she'd reached her limit. "I've been trying to get that across to you from the moment you just walked up to me and started to shake my hand without my consent. I see now that I should've just taken the direct approach. So just to be clear: I. Am. _Not_. Interested." With that said, the raven-haired woman turned on her heel, glanced for the briefest of moments at the signs indicting which rooms were where, and began to stalk off towards the room number Maya had mentioned to her earlier.

Aldrich watched her depart, slack-jawed and unresponsive, still standing in the elevator. Maya shook herself out of her stupor and quickly dashed off after the younger woman as she withdrew her room's keycard from her purse.

Happy fixed the man with a fierce expression as he said, "If I see you again tonight, I'll call the gendarmes and tell them you've been stalking her. Understood?"

"R-r-right," Aldrich stammered, his gaze snapping up to the bodyguard's eyes. "U-understood."

With that said, Happy moved into the hallway, withdrawing his foot from the elevator doorway, letting it close between them.

Maya rounded the corner and nearly ran into Megan, who had abandoned her journey to the older woman's room in favor of pacing back and forth. "Sorry, Maya, but at this point, I think it would be best if we did this another time," the petite genius said, her pacing continuing without falter. "I'm… not in the best of mood for company right now."

"I… see," the straight-haired brunette replied with unconcealed disappointment. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. Are you sure I can't change your mind?" She nearly flinched when the raven-haired woman halted her pacing, her head snapping to face her as her sky blue eyes locked onto her. "Your help would be _really_ invaluable," she added in what she hoped was a placating, rather than fearful, manner. It was odd, she decided, being afraid of a woman who was younger and smaller than her, but her fierce gaze was so piercing that one tended to forget that the raven-haired woman would be at a severe disadvantage in a physical fight.

"Fine," Megan ground out, turning on her heel once more and continued towards Maya's room as Happy finally came around the corner. "Five minutes. I'm sorry, but that's all I can give you."

_Yes! Yes yes yes! _Maya cheered, thanking every deity she knew of she hustled after the girl, Happy dutifully following without question.

* * *

><p>"Happy… I can't…<em> breathe<em>," Megan struggled to say, her voice muffled.

"Is it Y2K?" he blurted out in panic, oblivious to her plight as he laid a top her, having leapt to shield her with his body after the sudden, violent explosion occurred. It would have been admirable, but for the fact he was currently crushing her with his weight and suffocating her with his shoulder.

The teen attempted to reply, but she couldn't manage to so much as squeak; her air was gone. Nearby, Maya groaned as she lifted herself into a seated position on the floor, the explosion having sent her reeling to the ground. Once she'd regained her bearings, she cast her eyes about the room and froze when she saw the prone bodyguard and the young Megan pinned underneath him. "Good god, get off of her!" she exclaimed.

That caught his attention. His head whipped so hard in her direction that it's a wonder his head didn't snap clean off of his neck. "What?"

"You're suffocating her!" she replied, pointing at the floor beneath him.

The bumpy feeling of laying atop something finally reached his senses, arriving at the same time he remembered _why_ he had leapt to the floor. "Shit!" he cried as he rolled off of the ravenette, who promptly gasped, sucking in a lungful of air. "I'm so sorry!" he said with clear concern. "I was so focused on Y2K happening that I forgot what I was doing."

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" Maya indignantly shouted at him. "Not only do you think Y2K still a problem and causes explosions, you also _forgot_ you were crushing the person you're supposed to protect?!"

His head swiveled back and forth between the two women, his mouth attempting to work but no sound coming out. Eventually, Megan wearily asked, "Happy, did you… Do something to her plant?"

His head, which was facing her at that moment, stopped swiveling. "I… Err… I maybe… pulled off a leaf?"

If anything, Maya's indignation grew worse. "I told you not to touch her! She doesn't like it!"

"'She' is just a plant!" he blustered.

"She's not _just_ a plant," Maya heatedly retorted. "She's—"

"She's a plant that has an experimental instant body regrowth serum injected in her," the teen interjected before the two of them could continue to argue. She pushed herself upright into a seated position with a soft grunt and rubbed her back along where she'd hit the ground the hardest. "So given the _experimental_ part of that, it's generally _unwise_ to dick around with such a plant."

Happy blinked. "Ah. That… makes sense," he supplied.

His ward gave him a look. "Yeah. So, now that we're all on the same page about what just happened… I'd really like to take a look at your formula, Maya. Like, now. I kinda want to call it a night ASAP."

"Oh!" the brunette exclaimed. "Of course, of course!" She hastily (And painfully, if the expression on her face was any indication.) pulled herself to her feet and stumbled over to the desk in the room, which had mercifully remained untouched by the explosion debacle, and slid open a drawer full of documents. The sound of shuffling paper filled the air for a moment before she released a pleased sound, crossed the room to the still seated Megan, and handed her a wad of paper held together by a binder clip.

The ravenette accepted the papers and began to flip through the papers at a rapid pace, her eyes glazed over. Maya watched with surprise and a certain degree of disbelief as she continued to breeze through the lengthy and immensely complicated formulae and intermixed notes. The teen only had eyes for the document however, and never faltered from her blistering second per page pace. Once she'd reached the end of it, she requested, "Give me a pen and one of those business cards."

The brunette immediately complied, digging the requested items out of her nearby purse before handing them to her. The younger woman took the proffered items, tiredly made her way over to the desk, cleared a space on it, and began to swiftly write on the card. The card, blessedly, was somewhat large, and after a little less than a minute, she'd laid out in cramped script a formula so complex that even a specialist in biological engineering would begin to get a headache just from looking at it.

"Here," she replied as she held out the card and pen to the brunette woman. "Bio-engineering isn't exactly my forte, but based on what you told me earlier, I imagine this should give you some ideas on how you might improve the reconstruction process."

Maya gingerly took the card, barely acknowledging the pen as her eyes locked onto the neat, albeit small, handwriting on the back of the business card, already raking hungrily across the formula Megan had provided. _My god, this is brilliant!_ she exclaimed. _I knew she was a genius, but I never would have imagined that she could produce something on this level in a field outside her specialty — much less so quickly!_

The room's phone began to ring, finally tearing the bio-engineer out of her thoughts. She blinked. _When did it get so bright outside?_ she wondered as she took notice of the sunlight streaming in through the room's balcony window. The ringing of the phone drew her attention once more, distracting her from the sudden transition from night to day. "Hello?" she answered once she'd picked up the handset and brought it to her ear.

"Guten Morgen, Ms. Hansen. This is your 11:00a wake up call," a man replied, his English bearing only the slightest accent.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked bewildered.

There was a brief pause at the other end. "I said this is your 11:00a wake up call. You did request this, yes Ms. Hansen?"

Maya's eyes shot over to her room's alarm clock. Sure enough, the electronic screen clearly displayed '11:01a.' "Um… What's the date?"

"It is January 1st," the man dutifully replied.

Her jaw fell open. _Have I really been standing here, examining this formula for eleven hours straight without realizing it?_ She gave her feet a test flex and cringed at the feeling. _Yup. I've been standing the entire night._ "Ah, right… That… makes sense. Thank you."

"It is our pleasure, Ms. Hansen. Have a good day."

"You too…" Maya trailed off as she hung up the phone, her eyes unconsciously gravitating to the formula Megan had given her, even as they began to grow heavy, finally registering that she had just pulled an unintentional all-nighter. Eventually, she tore her eyes away from the card and set it face-down on her desk so it would stop calling to her. She gave the back of the card one last glance before slowly making her way over to her bed, lightly reprimanding herself, "You need sleep first, Maya." She stripped her clothes off and slipped under the covers, softly murmuring, "Mmm," as she did so. Her last thought before she fell unconscious was of the name on the back of the card — the name of the man who had been following her research for years — and how she should give him a call.

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><p><strong>Sunday, December 25th, 2005 10:03p, EST | Washington, D.C., an alcove near a homeless shelter<strong>

Megan snarled viciously at the sight of Aldrich Killian and her doppelgänger hanging in the air between her and Loki, the air around her crackling. "Get rid of that. Now." The trickster god frowned slightly but complied nevertheless, dispelling the image with a simple wave of his hand. Once he had, she visibly began to calm down, her breathe evening out once more and her eyes losing their steely glint. She initially began to perform a breathing exercise Bruce had shown her for anger control, but the thought of her beloved, who she had not seen in nearly half a year, caused the emotions writhing within her to spike once more, so she abandoned it altogether in favor of simply waiting out her anger. Eventually, she managed to say, "Sorry," but said nothing more.

Loki quirked an eyebrow at that, asking, "I understand the sight of your tormentors making you angry, but to lose control of yourself so quickly… Is such a reaction common among humans?"

She looked away, somewhat abashed at that. "Yes and no. Most people wouldn't react as strongly as I did, but at the same time, most people haven't been through what I have." Her sky blue eyes swiveled back to Loki. "But regarding your proposal… There are some ambiguities that I want to be clear on before I agree to anything, and one or more parts I'd like to alter, depending on your answers."

The trickster god gestured widely with a wave of his hand, easily replying, "Ask away."

"First, you said 'you will help me,' but you neither defined exactly how you will help, nor exactly what you'd be helping with. You implied the later was regaining my life from my doppelgänger as well as getting revenge on that son of a bitch Aldrich Killian, but you didn't _explicitly _say it. Please clarify both how you'll help and what you'll be helping with."

"Fair enough," Loki replied with a shrug that, despite the inherently informal nature of the gesture, he somehow made look elegant. "Regarding the latter, I did indeed mean what I implied, as you spelled out already. As for how I will help you… My intention is to teach you how to use your mana."

The raven-haired woman's eyebrows shot up in surprise, her pupils dilating in surprise. "Wait, I thought you sa—"

"What I said," he interjected with a light smirk, "is that there is variance in mana reserves among all races. I never said that you, Megan, did not have mana reserves of your own." He smoothly rose from his feet, and began to slowly close the gap between them, his pale green eyes focused intently on her sky blue orbs. "Surely you have noticed it before? You unconsciously tapped into it mere moments ago, when your anger spiked at the sight of Killian."

"The electricity?" Megan asked with a start. "But the Allfather said it was a side effect of Mjölnir. He never said it was _me_ who was magical."

"The Allfather says many things," Loki said with a frown, coming to a halt in front of her, "most of which is what he deems you should hear — not the truth as a whole." His eyebrow quirked slightly as a small smirk grew out of his prior frown. "I learned from the best."

The raven-haired woman growled lightly in indignation. _He could be lying, but what he's saying makes sense._ "I see." She cocked her head lightly to the side, her eyes lightly glazed over. "I can feel it in me again, but… Why couldn't I feel it while I had the male body?"

"As I said earlier, 'being true to oneself is important.' Connection to one's mana requires full acceptance of every aspect of oneself. So long as your mind rejected your body, your mana was beyond your reach."

She hummed at that before casting her gaze down at her hands, which she laid in her lap, palm face-up. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate, her eyelids fluttering lightly as she attempted to summon up the electricity she felt coursing within her. After a minute of fruitless attempt, she opened her eyes, a frown on her lips. "I don't understand… Why can't I summon it up?"

"You aren't listening closely enough, you fool," Loki bit out snappily, catching her off guard.

"I dare you to say that again," she sharply retorted with a snarl before realizing with a shock that the air around her was crackling with electricity.

"Ah, there we are," the trickster god replied with a toothy smile, all traces of his earlier tone gone. "It just took a little push. Though what I said before was true, albeit necessarily harsher said than it needed to be, since I wanted to give you a hint about the answer. Now then: Do you see why you had trouble calling on your mana?"

_I wasn't angry before, but why would that matter? _Megan asked herself. _Earlier this year, I was able to call on it without being angry… What's changed between then and now? Obviously I was stuck in a male body for almost six months, but how is that tied to the need for anger?_

"_Being true to oneself is important."_

_Ah, I see._ "I've changed," she said aloud as she found the answer. "I'm… angrier than I used to be. Understandably so, I would say, but the point is that I haven't really come to terms with that change."

"Very good," Loki said, his voice smooth as honey. "You have to accept yourself for who you are — who you _truly_ are — in order to use your mana reserves."

"I still don't understand something though: I didn't start spouting electricity until after I took up Mjölnir. So why wasn't I showing signs of magic when I was younger? Could it really have been something as simple as not being in-tune with myself?"

"Do not mistake me: Mjölnir _did_ have an impact on the nature of your mana, but it did not create mana reserves within you. Such an effect is well beyond the power of even the most masterfully crafted magical weapons. The hammer merely freed what you had long kept locked away and left its touch upon the nature of it." Megan accepted his answer with a thoughtful nod, falling silent for a minute as she mulled over the information. Eventually, Loki asked, "Do you accept my deal?"

"Don't be hasty, Loki," she drawled, her awareness focused on him once more. "I told you I wished to change a provision, did I not?" He quirked his eyebrow and gave her a light smile but neither said or did anything more. She rolled her eyes at that, standing from the chair she had been seated in so she could face him eye-to-eye (Or as close as she could, given their height disparity.). "You and your tests," she muttered before continuing at a normal volume. "The condition for your help was that I be your ally from today on. I would like the condition to instead be that _we_ will be _allies_ from this day forward."

He scowled at that, his pale green eyes narrowing, though in truth, he was quite pleased with how the conversation was unfolding. He was merely playing the part he must in order to test her. "I hardly see how that is a balanced exchange. My restoration of your body was provided to satisfy my life debt to you, and my offer of assistance ought be balanced by you becoming my ally. Why would I agree to become your ally in turn? Where is the equivalency?"

"You're presuming that your assistance is adequate payment for my becoming your ally," she retorted easily, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "In truth, it is not. You are offering a specific favor with a definite end point and expecting me, in return, to be your 'ally from this day forward,' which is an unspecific favor and has no end point. Hardly fair, Loki. Tsk tsk," she finished lightly, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes as she cocked her hip and crossed her arms under her breasts (Once again relishing the fact that she had her hard-won body back.).

_Yes! I knew coming here tonight was the right decision,_ he thought to himself, a secretive smile growing on his lips._ She's shrewd, intelligent, and has a strong potential for mana use. Having her on my side will be key, if I'm going to have even the slightest hope of escaping Thanos' wrath._ "You make a fair point, Megan," he replied. "We agree to be allies with one another from this day forward. My assistance with your training in the use of mana will simply be my first act as your ally. Do we have an accord?" He held out his hand to her, his palm up and inviting her to take it.

Megan's sky blue eyes glazed over as she ran through potential scenarios and the pros and cons, but they remained locked onto the pale green of his own eyes, her gaze never faltering. _If we're both allies with one another, then neither can actively betray the other without losing an ally. There are tons of reasons why he could want me as an ally: The most likely incentive is that he gets to remove the roadblock I've been to his plans and instead use me to his advantage for once. That's especially likely given the context of why he researched me in the first place._

Eventually, the glaze vanished as her lips curled into a smile of her own. "We have an accord, Loki. We shall be allies with one another from this day forward." She accepted his hand with her own, laying her hand upon his as a lady would a lord.

He gently lifted her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss upon the back of her hand, causing her cheeks to lightly dust with pink. "So mote it be," he declared before lifting his eyes to hers, his smile twisting into a grin. "Well then. Shall we begin your training, milady?"

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, July 14th, 2005 02:00p, EST | Washington, D.C.<strong>

The room was packed to the brim, just as like it had been for the last committee hearing involving Megan Stark and her "Iron Woman" (As the media still incessantly referred to it.) armor. At the front of it, on a raised dais, was a dark, wooden desk nearly as long as the room was wide, reserved especially for the U.S. Senate Armed Forces Committee. Stern sat at the center of the desk, perched upon his leather chair as though he were royalty (Which he doubtlessly thought of himself as.), and on both of his sides sat a succession of men and women professionally dressed who looked on with a mixture of expressions ranging from the painfully serious to the playfully uncaring. A small gap was left between the dais and the long, though not nearly as much as the committee's table, wooden table where Doppelgänger sat in wait, facing the table of senators before her. Standing next to her, whispering in her ear, was the sharply dressed Aldrich Killian, his one hand resting on the woman's shoulder while the other was left in the light gray pants of his suit. These desks were where the action would be, the remainder of the room separated from them by a divider of dark wood and reserved for attendees of the hearing, such as public figures, the press, and the general public.

"This meeting will come to order," Senator Stern called out in a formal voice, banging his gavel to dispel the noise of the many attendees.

"Good luck," the blonde-haired Aldrich murmured into her ear before pulling himself upright and slipping past the barrier to sit in the area designated for the general public. She smiled faintly. _Luck is hardly necessary. The plan is solid, and I've prepared myself for this: For becoming Megan Stark. Happy Hogan didn't notice anything amiss, and he's one of the original Megan's oldest friends. I_am_ Megan Stark. The only thing I need luck for is dealing with this ridiculous farce of a "public hearing." These fools aren't looking out for the public's safety; they're looking to consolidate power._ Her smile grew wider at that. _They've been beaten to the punch._

"Ms. Stark," Stern continued, leaning forward into the microphone, his posture calculated to appear imposing. In truth, he was creating the opposite impression: His pudgy frame, receding hairline, and lightly wrinkled face, when combined with his posturing, gave him a rather laughable air. "For the record, do you still possess the weapon widely known as the 'Iron Woman?'"

"I'm flabbergasted that you haven't done your research, Senator," Doppelgänger began, crossing her arms beneath her bust and re-crossing her legs beneath the table. Her black and white pinstriped suit smoothly adjusted to her movements, nary a wrinkle forming; the product of fashion perfection. "If you had, then you would know that _I_ am the 'Iron Woman,' not my high-tech prosthesis; that my prosthesis is exactly that: a prosthesis, not a weapon; and that yes, I still have my _prosthesis_ in my possession." _Embrace technicalities and create a show._ The crowd as a whole laughed at her taking the senator to task, just as she had once before. The balance of popular opinion was already swinging in her favor.

Stern's eyes narrowed as he took a deep, calming breath. He knew the committee had the power (And since it was in his pocket, _he_ therefore had the power.) to take the day here, but he needed to maintain control, or this would become yet another public relations nightmare. And that would displease his benefactors. "This committee has already made its position on the 'Iron Woman' weapon being a _weapon_ — not a prosthetic, as you would like us to believe. We are not interested in the semantics of whether you or the armor should be called the 'Iron Woman.' Furthermore, the purpose of my question was state the facts for the record; I am well aware of the fact that you still maintain possession of the weapon in question. Now, the last time you were before this committee, you were permitted to retain possession of this weapon because you were under the direct supervision of the government entity known as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, a.k.a. S.H.I.E.L.D." He lifted a piece of paper with one hand and lightly rapped it with two fingers of his other hand, causing a dull snap to echo into the microphone. "I have here a burn notice from S.H.I.E.L.D. that indicates you are no longer an agent of that agency."

At that announcement, a torrent of whispers erupted throughout the crowd watching the meeting. Stern did nothing to silence them, his mouth slowly twisting into a scarcely noticeable grin. She may have made the first move of the meeting, but he had just retaliated with a brutal move of his own. Smugly, he waited for her reply.

After nearly a minute, Doppelgänger lightly quipped, "I'm sorry, but you seem to be waiting for something. Is it an answer from me? If so, was there a question in your statement, or are you not paying attention to the words coming out of your own mouth?" _Be brash and adversarial when confronted._

The senator scowled at that, adjusting his red and white patterned tie as he coughed, realizing that he had in fact been waiting for a question he'd failed to ask. "What do you have to say regarding this burn notice, Ms. Stark?"

"It was time we parted," she replied, shrugging nonchalantly, the movement accentuating the plunging neckline of her ruby red blouse and the amply cleavage it displayed. "They refused to pick up after themselves and wanted me to do all the dirty work. That just won't do." She looked backwards over her shoulder, a broad smirk adorning her face. "Typical, right ladies?" _If pressed, avoid the question through humor. Appeal to the crowd._

A dull roar echoed throughout the packed chamber as the women present shouted their approval while the men variously laughed, rolled their eyes, or did nothing. Unwilling to let her use the crowd to her advantage, Stern slammed his gavel against the desk, while shouting into the microphone, "Order! I will have order!" It was several moments before silence finally settled over the crowd, at which point he said, "Let me be more specific, Ms. Stark: Why did you not relinquish the 'Iron Woman' weapon once S.H.I.E.L.D. revoked your agent status?'

She gave him a winning smile. "If I hadn't, then you wouldn't have called me here, and I wouldn't have received such a wonderful opportunity to do this:" She stood from her seat, turned to the crowd, focused onto one of the cameras aimed her way, and boldly said, "President Ellis, sir, I would like an opportunity to speak with you regarding my desire to serve at the behest of this great nation as a tool for achieving and maintaining world peace." The crowd erupted in a frenzy as cameras flashed and reporters shouted questions to her. She twisted on her heel and snatched the mic off of the desk, giving the now pale Senator Stern a truly wicked grin "And furthermore," she yelled, so her amplified voice could be heard over the crowd, "until I have heard the President's word on this matter, both I and Stark Industries refuse to relinquish my property, as is my constitutional right as an American citizen." She turned to the crowd once more, the mic in one hand as she thrust the other into the air, her index and middle fingers forming a peace sign. "To world peace!" _Issue ultimatums. Appeal to the crowd. And now that I've named Stark Industries as complicit, Potts will have me in her office within the day._

The purple faced Stern angrily and repeatedly bashed his gavel, but the crowd refused to be silenced. Doppelgänger tossed the mic back onto the table and strode towards the exit, twin peace signs held up as she departed to mass, vocal approval. As she walked past, Aldrich slipped into the aisle with her, following in her wake with a smug grin on his lips. In the back of the room, Phil Coulson watched the duo depart with an analytical eye. _I guess I won't need to testify against her after all, at least today. The question is, why did she call out the President? She has to realize the suit will fall into the military's hands eventually, if she goes down that route. Fury sicced this Committee on her because they would take her suit. Is she trying to taunt him by showing him she can still overcome this? I hope she knows what she's doing…_

The pair made their way out of the building, people cheering as they passed, having seen the events of the committee meeting play out over the building's internal video network. "You were exceptional, love," he commented to her as they passed through the exterior doors. "Even I barely knew the difference."

She flicked his forearm, remarking with a quirked eyebrow, "Don't talk like that. You know who I am." Her message was clear: _We're in public. Don't talk about me being a fake._ He raised his hands in surrender, a laugh escaping him.

Nearby, Happy watched with narrowed eyes as they approached. "How did it go, Meg?" _Something is still fishy about this guy… What is she thinking acting so buddy-buddy with him already? It's weird enough that he's changed so much physically (I didn't even recognize him at first, and I _always_ remember people.), but didn't she say earlier that she found him creepy?_

Doppelgänger gave him a mischievous grin, remarking, "It went well, of course." She walked up to him and gave him a hug. "O ye of little faith, Happy! My plan's going off without a hitch." _Be personable with her inner circle._

_Ah, now there's the Meg I know and love,_ the brunette thought to himself. _Maybe I'm just getting worked up over nothing?_ "Great! Glad to hear it! I thought your luck might be bad today, after you spilled that wine on yourself."

She released him, turning to face Aldrich with a smile. "Speaking of, thank you again, Aldrich. It was sweet of you to cut your demonstration short, so I could go buy a new suit in time for the hearing."

He gave her a winning smile. "I would have been remise to leave you at a disadvantage for your hearing. Besides, you gave me an excuse to cut out all the fluff of the presentation and skip right to the meat and bones. Really, I should thank you for letting me hitch a ride with you to get here." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "The taxi drivers in this town are simply the _worst_."

"I know!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "But don't worry, the ones in my town are much better, but you'll see for yourself first hand when you come up for the press conference."

"The press conference?" the two men asked in confusion, Happy's genuine and Aldrich's feigned.

"The press conference," she affirmed, nodding. "Aldrich, I admit that I was unsure about this potential partnership at first, but you truly impressed me today. I'll have to speak with Pepper about it, but I can convince her to see eye-to-eye with me on this: Stark Industries and Advanced Idea Mechanics should move forward with a joint venture production of Extremis." She stuck out her hand in invitation for a handshake. "Together, we can make this world a better place."

"Wonderful!" the blond-haired man exclaimed, as though he hadn't expected such a declaration. "I'll get my people in touch with yours." He took her hand firmly in his own. "Let's save the world."

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, October 28th, 2000 11:11a, EST | Miami, Florida<strong>

The work week knew no bounds for Maya Hansen. She was too close to a breakthrough for her to worry about trivial matters like time off and sleep. Her tired body protested the all-nighter she had just pulled, but she would hear nothing of it. _I'm so close I can _taste_ it! I can't stop now!_

Megan's notes from their meeting in Bern had proven vital. Her progress on Extremis had nearly ground to a halt altogether before that New Year's Eve, but once she had applied the young genius' insights (Which Maya could still hardly believe had been produced in mere minutes and after little more than the briefest skim reading of a document she'd ever seen anyone perform.) to her own work, she'd immediately begun to make progress once more. Development was halting at first, as Maya had struggled to reconcile the ravenette's formula with her own, but after she'd gotten past the initial hurdles, the rate of improvement had become astonishing. The literally explosive regrowth process still released spare amounts of excess energy, but if she was right, then her latest serum formulation would be the result she'd been striving for years.

"All work and no play makes Maya a tired scientist," a voice remarked from behind and above her.

"It also makes for no progress," she off-handedly replied, earning a chuckle from the speaker, Aldrich Killian.

"True," the blonde responded as he began to make his way down the stairwell into the basement where Maya maintained her lab and workspace. He was slow and methodical, carefully using his crutch and the handrail to minimize the strain on his bad leg. "But still, you need to be careful of burning out. I can't have that happen to my lead scientist now, can I?"

The brunette didn't answer, her focus on the small, sealed glass vial she was withdrawing from the chemical compounding machine. Once the glass container was safely ensconced in a metal rack she kept nearby, she slid open a drawer and retrieved a capped syringe from inside it. With a flick, she pulled the cap off and then deftly plunged the needle into the vial, drawing out a measure of the serum within it. "Test serum 39," she announced, knowing her nearby computer was still recording an audio note. She stepped over to her latest plant test subject, her gait an odd mix of weariness and giddiness for her body and her mind were at odds about the wisdom in persisting in her endeavors without more sleep. "Applying 100 milliliters to plant test group member…" She trailed off, glancing at the number written on the pot in sharpie. "1968."

Maya slipped the syringe into the stem of the plant and depressed the plunger, injecting the serum while Aldrich watched with a small amount of anticipation, though admittedly, most of it was tempered by the tremendous number of failures. When she first called him about joining his think tank, A.I.M., he had immediately hired her on as his new lead scientist, as her past research had had a tremendously successful success record. Her latest project, Extremis, had made her something of a pariah in the scientific community, however. Besides the ethical dilemmas inherent in developing a serum that altered the way the brain handled regrowth, her efforts had only born half fruit: A serum that caused immediate reconstruction of lost body tissue but caused the subject to promptly explode afterwards. After burning through millions of dollars with the only thing to show for it a number of public failures, no research institute would take her. He saw the potential in her, though, and likewise desired to use a perfected form of the serum on himself to cure his bad leg. With the new influx of funding A.I.M. provided her, she had been able to restart her work, and although she had been making reasonably steady progress, she had yet to succeed in developing a serum that didn't release _some_ degree of excess energy. Her dogged determination to finally remove that failing of the formula had been slowly, but surely, taking its toll.

She pulled out the syringe and tossed it into the nearby bright red sharps container with the sort of practiced ease that one could only develop through incessant repetition. The pair took a deep breath, unwittingly doing so in sync, and with a flourish, she ripped one of the plant's leaves clean off of the stem. The surface of the wound began to glow with the ominous red light that was a trademark of the Extremis regrowth process. The leaf began to steadily reform before their eyes until eventually, the entire area was whole once more, the glow dissipating with no burst whatsoever. Maya and Aldrich stared in disbelief, waiting for the other shoe to drop — for the glow to reappear without warning and flare out of the leaf.

Nothing happened.

The pair simultaneously shouted in delight. She had done it; the serum was finally finished. The brunette began to hop around, indulging her childish excitement for the moment without regard for appearances. Aldrich smiled widely and made to move over to her and join in her celebration, but he flinched and hissed in agony as the nerves in his bad leg flared up. Maya, who had since moved over to her computer and begun to type a mile a minute, remained oblivious to his plight.

He sighed softly as he redistributed his weight to more heavily favor his cane and his good leg. "Goddamn leg," he muttered angrily as he began to more carefully make his way over to the frantically typing bio-engineer. As he reached the table where she kept the chemical compounder and her computer, his eyes fell on the vial of Extremis and the still open drawer full of syringes.

Aldrich Killian was by no means a dumb man. In fact, one might call him a business savant. What he lacked in social graces and hard scientific knowledge, he made up for in spades with his ability to produce money from next to nothing, to research human resources, and to organize a business and its employees efficiently and effectively. Beyond that, he had passably knowledge regarding the hard sciences. For example, he knew that taking a syringe from that drawer, using it to extract 100 milliliters of Extremis serum, and injecting that serum into himself was unbelievably risky when it had only been tested on plants, since the serum might cause severe negative reactions up to and including death in animals, much less humans.

That didn't stop him from doing it anyway.

"Hmm?" Maya hummed when she heard a light clattering sound to her left. She turned to identify the noise and froze in absolute terror at what she saw: Her boss had a fully depressed syringe in his arm and was lightly glowing an ominous red, his cane abandoned on the floor beside him. "Aldrich!" she cried out, her eyes wide and her tone filled with panic. "My god, what have you done!"

The blonde groaned as he twisted to face her, slapping his left hand onto the table for balance as he noticeably began to tremor. "What had to be done." No sooner had the words had left his mouth, he seized up collapsed, banging the table on the way down and landing in a heap on the floor as he began to scream. It was like watching a train wreck. She couldn't look away as he began to writhe about on the ground, his scream only ending once he'd run out of air to scream with. The whole process only took a minute, but to the two of them, Aldrich with his pain and Maya her fear of what was happening, it felt like an eternity.

Eventually, Aldrich hoarsely asked, "Help me up, please?"

She burst into tears as she rushed over to him, muttering, "Stupid, stupid, stupid," as she helped the drained blonde up and into a nearby chair. "Why, Aldrich, why?"

He wearily lifted his head up, his dark blue eyes searching out her honey brown orbs. "Why, what?"

"'Why what?!'" she repeated in disbelief as she wiped at her wet eyes. "Don't be ridiculous! Why did you inject yourself with Extremis? I just had my first successful plant injection, the new formulation hasn't been tested for any unexpected side effects that haven't manifested yet, I haven't done repeat trials, and I haven't even _touched_ human experimentation yet!"

He chuckled, his once hoarse voice already gone as though he hadn't just screamed for a solid minute. "I knew all of that. Is it so ridiculous to want to feel whole again for the first time in decades?"

"Aldrich…" she murmured mournfully.

"That's my name," he said with a laugh as he sprung to his feet with a sudden burst of energy. "Don't wear it out." It had worked: His bad leg, which had been devastated in an accident when he was a teenager nearly three decades ago, was good as new. He flexed his spine until it was upright, pulling himself out of the hunch that had become an ingrained muscle memory and up to his full height. He was in bliss; he couldn't even remember the last time he'd been able to stand like this. After a time, he brought his attention back to her, realizing that she had been watching him with unconcealed fascination. "Maya," he whispered as he relished in an altogether new sensation. For nearly as long as he could remember, people had stared at him out of pity, disgust, or some mix thereof. This though — this was different.

"You didn't explode," she replied before slapping her hand over her mouth and cringing as her unfortunate choice of words caught up with her.

He quirked an eyebrow at that. "Try not to sound _too_ disappointed," he replied, doing his best to infuse his voice with humor to defuse the tension.

Unable to help herself, Maya giggled. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Why?" he asked, the words escaping his lips without a thought of the consequences.

The brunette gasped. "Aldrich, how could you possibly ask that?! Do you really think I want you _dead_?!" He glanced away abashed, but she saw the truth in his eyes. "You believed in me when no one else did, Aldrich. I… I care about you. I would never want you to die." Her voice was watery, and her eyes were still utterly bloodshot, but in his eyes, he'd never seen anyone more beautiful than her at that moment.

As has been said, Aldrich Killian was by no means a dumb man. He knew enough about love to know that he wasn't meant to receive any — himself, that is. The only thing people loved about Aldrich was his business expertise and the money he could generate with it. Furthermore, he knew that if somebody ever did show signs of feeling something even remotely akin to love about him, it would be incredibly unwise to kiss them without warning. But Maya Hansen had just told him to his face that she cared about him. He could see it in her honey brown eyes as she said it: She was telling the truth; she was genuinely glad he was okay. Now aware that she felt something akin to love for him, he knew it would be incredibly unwise to kiss her without warning.

That didn't stop him from doing it anyway.

_I'm rather impulsive today,_ he thought to himself as he watched her reaction through half-lidded eyes as he soundly kissed her. As he watched her eyes flutter closed and felt her dissolve into the kiss, accepting it and reciprocating in kind, he found that he didn't give a damn.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, July 14th, 2005 06:11p, EST | Stark Tower, NYC<strong>

"Welcome home, Miss Stark," Jarvis intoned as Doppelgänger strode into the tower as though she had done so a million times, despite it being, in truth, her first time. "I understand the committee hearing was a smashing success in the 'keep the suit' department."

"Hi, Jarvis," she replied with a light, secretive smile. "It's a success for now, at least." She stepped into the waiting, open elevator. "Take me up to floor 73."_ Deal with the AI first, least he oversee what he shouldn't._

"Right away, ma'am," her AI replied as the elevator smoothly and rapidly began to rise. "Mr. Weitzel and Dr. Banner are currently sharing dinner together in the dining area. I've told them you're here, and they're eagerly awaiting your arrival."

_Well, shit,_ she thought to herself, unaware of how similar her reaction was to one the original Megan would have had in the same situation. _Banner is with the boy… I have to remove him when he's alone. _The elevator slid to a halt as it reached her desired floor, the doors opening to allow her out. _Worry about that later. First things first…_ She strode into the hallway and began to swiftly make her way to the room she knew contained an uplink to Jarvis' central operating system. _Stark Tower floors seventy-three through seventy-five, Stark Industries servers. Direct access to Jarvis the AI can be found in the last room on the right on floor seventy-three._

The locked door to the room slid open without her needing to say a word. Nothing was barred to Megan Stark in her own tower. The entire room was filled with one massive, interconnected server bank — one of Jarvis the AI's many backups. _There should be multiple FireWire ports throughout the area. Any one of them will do. _Her sky blue eyes scanned the room quickly, noticing one of the ports she needed within moments. As she reached into her purse and retrieved the large external hard drive and FireWire connection cable within it, she made her way over to the port. "I need you to apply the update on this hard drive to your OS, Jarvis," she called out as she connected the drive to the massive server.

"Right away, ma'am," the AI intoned without question. It took only moments for the 'update' to overtake him, given the massive horsepower of the server. "Virus applied. How may I serve?"

Doppelgänger's lips twisted into a wicked grin. _Step one complete. _"Spread the virus to all of your backups and delete all of the emergency OS restores."

"I live to serve," the converted AI replied as he spread the taint and purged the restores, lest they be used to easily undo the damage.

Without another word, she did a one-eighty and made her way back to the waiting elevator, stepped inside, and was whisked away, the AI already aware of where she was heading: Her next targets.

* * *

><p><em>Let nothing slip. All you have to do is play it cool until everyone's asleep.<em>

"Hey, sis," Danny called out over the top of his seemingly ever present laptop, his pale eyes seeking out her sky blue ones as she entered the dining area. "Interesting improvisation at the committee hearing. I can't argue with the results, but I don't recall 'force a meeting with the President' being a part of the plan you mentioned this morning."

She froze. _Brilliant. The algorithm might be unparalleled at predicting generalized human behavior and how to mold it, but it can't predict exact thoughts and expressions._

"Sis?" the younger of the brunettes at the table questioned. "You okay?"

_Play it cool._ "Mhm," Doppelgänger replied, feigning a distracted air before slightly shaking he head and blinking her eyes. "Sorry, I was lost in thought for a second there," she continued as she resumed walking into the room, slipping past the two brunette men and into the kitchen to serve herself some of the lasagna they were currently eating at the table. "Long day," she added, somewhat more loudly so they could hear her in the next room.

Bruce, who had been watching the exchange, trailed her progress into the kitchen and blinked owlishly once she was out of sight. "What's up, Bruce?" Danny asked when he noticed the older man staring after her.

"Well that was odd," he replied quietly before swinging his head to face forward once more, a baffled expression still in place. Seeing the teen's curiosity, he explained, "She said she was lost in thought, but her eyes didn't glaze over. I've never seen that happen before — or not happen, rather."

"Huh. Good point," the teen agreed at a similar volume.

The subject of their brief, hushed conversation strode back in then with a plate full of lasagna and some sides. Sitting next to Bruce, she ate a bite, chewed it, and swallowed it with visible satisfaction, both because it was along the lines of what the original Megan would have done and also because she was, in truth, really rather hungry. _I could hardly eat lunch, I was such a bundle of nerves this afternoon. Also, admittedly, I'm still getting used to how much my taste buds changed after the transformation… I can't even stand my favorite drink, black tea, anymore. _Despite not wanting to, she laid her head on the shoulder of 'her' beau and released a sigh full of contentment, her sky blue eyes swiveling to the side and finding the younger of the brunettes — her first target, unless she decided the plan would need to change. "Anyway, to answer your earlier question," she began, lightly allowing her eyelids to slide down until shut, adding to the image of her being pleased to be laying on the man who she objectively knew could transform at any moment and rip her apart. She could naturally regrow whatever he tore off, but it was painful to have a limb forcibly removed (An experience she regrettably had undergone on purpose in order to complete her façade. She fought down a shudder at the memory.). "The idea came to me earlier when I walked past a magazine with a picture of the President on its cover."

"Well, I certainly can't deny that meeting with the President is more likely to occur, and thus buy you time, than your plan to rest to a court of appeals," the neon-green eyed brunette said with a frown, his shoulder currently covered in a mess of black and red hair. "But a couple of things threw me for a loop. First, you jumped right to 'buy time' plan after a perfunctory attempt to convince the committee that you holding onto he suit wasn't a problem. Second, Fury will be… well, furious when he hears about this, since you've told the world at large that you plan to continue using the suit, which you said you wouldn't do. And last, going through meeting the President will get you closer to the military than you ought to, given your relationship with me and that they're actively trying to get their hands on your suit."

_Well, shit. The algorithm predicted the original Megan would still be at the heart of the action, yet she's apparently told her inner circle she wouldn't do that… Fuck._ It took every ounce of willpower the petite genius had to not reveal any sign of her inner turmoil, but after chanting to herself once more, _Play it cool_, she pulled herself back upright and feigned a weary sigh. "I don't know, Bruce," she murmured as she began to idly play with the food she had retrieved from the kitchen. "If I'm being honest, I guess it wasn't exactly the greatest plan ever." _Focus! He gave you a reason why this plan was good. Leverage the information you have to your advantage._ "It's been a long day, and as it went on, I just got so focused on making sure I bought myself time to think of a better plan." _Good — you've created a plausible reason for you to call it a night early. The original Megan has a history of being frustrated with herself when she fails at something, as these two feel I did. I can end this witch hunt._ She pushed away her plate with a half frustrated, half disgusted look. "I really just want today to be over. I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Danny replied with a concerned expression. "Don't tear yourself up over it… You've handled this type of situation before, right? So you can handle it again!"

She fixed him with a sad smile, her eyes lightly misty. _It's ridiculous how quickly this body is reduced to tears… Honestly!_ "Thanks, Danny." She turned back to Bruce, who was eyeing her oddly, and swallowed down her disgust and fear of him. "I'll see you when you come to bed," she said before brushing his lips with a quick, chaste kiss. That done, she slid out of her chair and stood up before beginning to make her way towards the elevator as quickly as she dared.

Danny's eyes inevitably zeroed in on his laptop once more, falling back into his studies with gusto. Bruce, however, was lost in thought. _I've never seen her head to bed early over _anything_ while I've known her,_ the elder brunette thought to himself. _And she left her food out without asking one of us to clean it up. It's not like her to leave open food just lying around… What on _earth_ happened to her today to shake her up so badly?_

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><p>"Did you miss me, love?" Aldrich quietly whispered over six hours later.<p>

Doppelgänger's eyes slowly fluttered open, her sky blue irises tired from being awoken in the midst of sleep but nevertheless clearly pleased to see him. "The beast is asleep?"

"Of course," he murmured, lightly kissing her.

She whined as he pulled away, eliciting a chuckle from him, the hot air tingling her lips and sending shivers throughout her body. "No time to play, love?" she huskily asked as she greedily stole another kiss from him before he could pull away.

"I always have time," he rumbled back as they locked lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Without missing a beat, the blonde slid into the bed next to her as she slowly freed up room, unwilling to break away from him to do it quicker. Time passed in a blur of lost clothes, interlocked bodies, and shared heat as the pair made love upon the bed where, just the night before, Bruce and the original Megan had done the same. It was over an eternity later as they joined one another in screamed release, their cries the melody of a symphony that mankind had been performing for ages.

"I can't believe it worked," she sleepily mumbled into the chest of her lover as she finally descended from the heights of bliss they had risen to together and her body's tiredness began to fill her up once more.

"You give yourself so little credit," the blonde chastised from next to her. "By the time we arrived, Banner was comatose from the knockout drug you slipped into his medicine. He never suspected a thing."

"And the kid?"

"Taken care of. He used to live off the street, so he'll manage just fine, even if he _is_ in London instead of NYC."

She smiled as she succumbed to slumber, her last words whispered. "The tower is ours."


	3. Chapter Three: Tempest, Redux(Iron)

**Incorruptible**

_Chapter Three: Tempest=Redux(Iron);_

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Iron Man, Tony Stark, or any other Marvel intellectual property. _Incorruptible_ is a fan-based work and not sold for profit.

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><p>Brief author's note: All author's notes, including my replies to reviews, will be posted on my profile page. Feel free to send me a private message if you have questions.<p>

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><p>"Yes, I'm let loose from the noose that's kept me hanging about.<p>

I keep looking at the sky 'cause it's getting' me high.

Forget the hearse 'cause I'll never die.

I got nine lives, cat's eyes. Using every one of them and runnin' wild.

'Cause I'm back. Yes, I'm back."

AC/DC, _Back in Black_

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><p><strong>Sunday, December 25th, 2005 10:28p, EST | Washington, D.C., an alcove near a homeless shelter<strong>

Megan stared at the raven-haired trickster. "You want to begin training me _now_?" she incredulously asked.

"Yes?" Loki asked, a look of confusion on his face. "Is there a problem with that?"

The petite genius lifted her hand from its resting place on Loki's own hand — the movement reminding her that, yes, he _had_ lightly brushed his lips against the knuckles of her hand a few seconds ago — and gestured at their surroundings: A dank, dark alcove with a coating of ice over nearly every surface in sight. "You may have made the air warmer, but I can hardly imagine this is the most conducive setting for learning magic."

"May I remind you that _I_ am the master of magic," he drawled out. "I assure you this place is as good as any."

"And no one is going to walk by this alcove and notice the two of us flinging spells about the place?" she retorted, unimpressed. "A stray bolt of magic won't fly out onto the street and strike a passerby, spontaneously turning them into a newt? Surely you could find somewhere more _discrete_ at the very least."

"What are you even… A newt? A _newt_? Really?" he asked in exasperation. "Is that what Midgardians fear? Being turned into newts?"

Unable to resist herself, she quipped back with a wide grin, "Only if they don't get better afterwards."

He stared at her, as if he were unsure whether or not the words he had just heard had truly been uttered by her. She returned his gaze with mirth-filled eyes, saying nothing. "I… see," he eventually said. "Well, I assure you that neither we nor any passerby will be turned into _newts_ (The distaste in his voice as he said the word only made her grin grow, which was incredible feat given how wide it already was at that moment.). Nobody will struck with any magic whatsoever." He lifted his hand then, aimed his palm over her shoulder, and shot a spear of ice out of his hand at the alcove's exit.

Megan whirled around, following the projectile's path, and watched with amazement when it collided with what appeared to be an invisible wall between the alcove and the street it branched off of. What appeared to be waves of energy radiated out from the point of impact, slowly fading away until the area showed no signs of having been disturbed — like the ripples a stone makes when dropped into a pond. That notion gave her an idea: She kneeled down, scooped an ice-coated pebble off of the ground, and chucked it at the alcove's exit. "_Fascinating_," she breathed out in wonder, as the pebble flew out into the street unimpeded. She pulled herself upright and looked over her shoulder at the raven-haired trickster, who was watching her with a certain degree of bemusement. "You made an invisible wall that blocks the passage of magic but allows everything else to pass?"

"That and more," he answered enigmatically.

She turned fully to face him, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Okay, Mr. Mysterious, explain: What magic have you done here?"

"The wall, an illusion of a solid wall instead of this alcove, and the heat in the area," Loki answered, ticking off fingers.

"Does magic have limits?" she inquired, her curiosity evident. "Surely it must, or magic-users would almost certainly be the rulers of the universe…"

"Of course," he answered immediately, his demeanor becoming more formal as he began to lecture. "First, and most importantly, is the size of one's reserves. Second, one's ability to use those reserves. Third, one's imagination. Lastly, one's affinity for the magic they are attempting to cast." He paused for half a moment, a smirk sliding back onto his face. "And for the record, magic-users generally _are_ rulers. Take the Allfather, for example."

She considered his answer for a minute, a thoughtful gleam in her sky blue orbs, before replying, "So although there aren't many limitations, the few there are can be severe. Someone could have huge mana reserves, great training in using them, and an unlimited imagination, but they might only have an affinity for curing runny noses. _Fascinating_…" She blinked. "I'm saying that a lot, aren't I? But still, this really _is_ utterly fascinating."

"So then," he drawled out as he willed ice to begin swirling around his hand, hoping to tantalize her. "Would you like to start learning how to use your mana or not?"

"Yes," she replied, her expression darkening. "The sooner I have control of this power, the sooner I can go after Killian."

"Then embrace who you are, the anger within you, and attempt to do this," he said as he gestured with his free hand at its twin and the tightly controlled ice flurry whipping around it, "with electricity. That seems to be your most pronounced affinity, so it's the best place for to start practicing your control."

Megan lifted her hand, the extremity lightly tremoring as her gaze drifted down and fixated on it. _Why am I trembling?_ At first, only small sparks began to emanate from her creamy white hand, but slowly, they began to multiply, more and more electricity flaring about her hand. A sudden snarl startled her somewhat, but she managed to hold her concentration. _What was that sound?_ Amidst the sound of crackling lightning that permeated the air, a distinctly feminine growl could be heard, and it was exponentially growing in intensity. _It's me,_ she realized with a start. _The growl, the snarl, the trembling… It's all because I'm _angry_ right now. _She could feel a power churning within her in tightly controlled knots, like a furious beast pacing its cage while waiting to be unleashed. Like the electricity now freely ebbing from her hand in strong, relentless pulses, the fervor within her felt charged, but she intuitively knew it was something more than the simple electricity. _I want this… _It was alive and swirling, both separate from and part of her. _I want this _so bad_… _With little thought for the consequences, she reached out with her mind and caressed it, wanting to feel it, to know it.

She was plunging into the abyss, the gravity of the power within her too strong to resist. Her eyes flung open as she attempted to escape to reality, but she was too far gone, the physical world outside of her now beyond her reach. Instead of the dreary alcove and the trickster god who had saved her, she was in the midst of a thunderstorm, furious lightning crackling between ominous clouds as vicious, relentless winds blew all around her. She was in the heart of the storm, the eye nowhere in sight, yet despite the ferocity of the atmosphere around her, she felt at peace — at peace and _alive_. This was her. This was the power that had slumbered within her for all these years, and the Allfather had unwittingly set it free when he cast Mjölnir down to Midgard, to the planet Earth. Lightning burst forth from one of the clouds, striking her dead on. An ordinary human would have been dead, the electrocution thorough and unyielding, but to her, it was a warm embrace, her power reaching out to comfort her the only way it could. The savage winds pierced through her, inflexible as they rushed along the currents of the air. Their ruthlessness filled her with relief, a supreme satisfaction that mirrored what she had felt when Loki restored her to her true self.

Megan was the storm, and the storm was her. She was united with a part of herself she had never known before, and she knew that should she ever be separated from it, that she would forever mourn its loss. _I am a woman, and I am a storm._ As her words rushed through her mind, a sense of rightness began to fill her. The power in her chest — what she know knew must be her mana — began to spread out, inch by inch infusing every part of her body. _I am a woman, and I am a storm,_ she chanted to herself, the mantra causing her mana to throb and writhe within her. _I am a woman, and I am a storm. _

_Aldrich Killian took away my womanhood…_ a voice within her said, her timbre dark, cold, and filled with anger. _He must be punished._

_Yes!_ Megan immediately replied, basking in her power as it grew closer and closer to filling her entirely. _Yes, he must be punished! I will make him wish he never crossed me!_

The tempest around her, matchless in its fury, somehow began to grow more violent, defying all limitations. Undying thunder deafened her ears as lightning shot from cloud to cloud without end, and the currents of the harsh winds expanded until they were currents no more, but rather a sea of cutting gales.

_No!_ a different part of her cried out. _What he did was wrong, but we can't take justice into our own hands like that! What would Mom and Dad think?! They would never approve of this!_

_But…_ Megan whined as the storm began to diminish, and the comfort it brought her began to follow.

_Shut up!_ the first voice snarled, causing the tempest to spike once more. _You think they would have just let that bastard get away with what he did? After he hurt their little girl?_

Megan groaned as she dropped to her knees against an invisible ground and wrapped her arms around herself. The voices warred within her, the storm and its embrace alternating between slipping away and firming up as each voice made itself heard. Somewhere in the distance, she could vaguely make out someone shouting, "Megan!" but they were too far away, and she couldn't tear her attention away from the argument within herself.

_They wouldn't let him get away with it, but they wouldn't take justice into their own hands!_

_Don't spout nonsense about inane notions like 'justice!' That's just a fiction people invented so they could feel better about themselves when they doled out their tormentors' just deserts! Where was your 'justice' when we killed the terrorists that kidnapped us? When we killed Stane? When we killed Vanko? When we had Bruce kill Sterns? They tried to kill or enslave us, and we ended them for their troubles. _That_ is 'justice.'_

That gave the second voice pause. _I… But that's… That's _different_…_

"Megan!" the voice from far away called out again, but the conflict between her inner selves was too riveting.

_Oh, it's 'different,' you say? How so?_

_We _had_ to do those things… We couldn't have stopped them… otherwise? _the second voice replied, sounding unsure of herself.

_Now you're just lying to yourself,_ the first voice replied smugly, knowing she had taken the upper hand. _Fury ordered us to kill Stane, but that's not why we did it. Stane tried to kill us, take away Dad's company, and have us accidentally kill Pepper, so we ended him. When we killed Vanko, we shot him in the head from two feet away, but we didn't do it because that was the only way to stop him. We had just neutralized his whips, his head had been smashed against the ground, and we were armed with a pistol. We easily could have maintained control over him without killing him, but instead, we did what we had wanted to do at the tech demonstration. As for Sterns, his mind-control power may have been exceedingly dangerous, but we still could have taken him alive and developed something to keep him contained. We wouldn't have known for sure the people he'd taken control of were free, but we would've_ _known he couldn't control more people and could've taken precautions against potential efforts to free him by those he controlled. But no, he had taken _Bruce_, and we couldn't let that stand. We had to do whatever we could to take him back, to make him _ours_ again._

"_Megan_!"

_You're… You're wrong…_ The storm's ferocity had begun to steadily rise once more, increasing as the second voice's protests weakened more and more.

_Face it: Society's 'justice' is a lie. Where was the justice in Vanko trying to kill Rhodey? Where was the justice in Danny's parents kicking him out for being true to himself? Where was the justice in Aldrich Killian in forcing us into a male body and giving our life away to a fake?! _

_I… I…_ the second voice murmured as she began to fade away, the battle lost.

_The only 'justice' in this world is what we take for ourselves. We stepped in — we became _true_ justice —_ _because we had to, because this world's notion of 'justice' is a _lie_! _As her mana reserves finally filled up the last of her, the fury of the storm reached its peak. Her eyes were glowing an electric blue, and her body was coated in crackling electricity and rushing wind. For one brief but glorious instant, she felt unstoppable, as though she could take on the Hulk and win.

Almost as soon as the moment had begun, however, a wave of cold rushed over her, immediately causing her to shiver. The vision of her inner storm began to fade away, replaced by a darkness different than the black sky and clouds of the tempest. "What's happening?" Megan whispered, her voice reflecting some of the reverence she felt from her inner journey.

"Finally!" Loki grumbled as he hastily wrapped an arm around her and began to pull her out of her kneeling position on the ground and up onto her feet. "We have to go."

"What's happening?" she repeated, hiding her face against the trickster god's chest, not wanting him to see the flush that had blossomed on her face at his touch.

"You skipped a step," he immediately replied, his pale green eyes flicking over to the entrance to the alley, though she could not see it from her position, "and I was not prepared for such an… unanticipated leap forward."

"Huh?" she blurted out, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The trickster rolled his eyes at her ineloquence. Without another word, he gestured at the entrance to the alley, where she knew his magical wall stood. Her eyes followed his movement, confusion clear as the glow in them slowly began to fade away, unbeknownst to her. She blinked in shock: Everything was covered in electrical burns, including the area of the street beyond the wall. The glass of all the streetlamps had shattered, leaving small shards of glass strewn about on the sidewalks, barely noticeable due to the thick sheet of ice coating the ground. Likewise, most of the windows of nearby buildings had shattered. What was more important than the status of glass in the vicinity, however, was that the occupants of the largely residential area had all come out of their homes, flashlights in hand, and begun to scour the moonlit street for the search of the disturbance. Some of them were muttering about transformer blowouts, and others were muttering about terrorists, but all of them were staring at the alley.

"They only see a wall, right?" she quietly asked as she watched one of them, a middle-aged man with mousy hair, carefully prod at the wall with his solid silver Maglite. The wall lightly rippled where the device touched the wall, but it seemed to her to be intact.

"Yes, but not for long," he replied, his superior knowledge of magic dispelling her hope that the wall would hold. "Illusions are my greatest affinity, but this wall was not intended to be a permanent enchantment, and between restoring your body and keeping the wall from _completely_ failing under the assault of your mana, I have already depleted most of my own reserves. At this point, even these ordinary humans will be able to see through it soon enough, given how closely they are scrutinizing it. Now, I hope that lecture was satisfactory because as I said before, we need to go. _Now_."

"Right," she murmured as she pulled away from him, her legs a tad wobbly but nevertheless holding firm. "What's the escape plan?" His pale green eyes met her sky blue ones as he gave her a grim smile. "Loki?" He pointed at the solid wall of the alley, the only thing separating them from what she suspected was someone's home. "Well, shit."

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><p><strong>Friday, July 15th, 2005 06:26p, EST | Stark Tower, NYC<strong>

"Potts is here, ma'am," the infected Jarvis intoned, alerting Aldrich and Doppelgänger of the incoming danger. The two of them were still professionally dressed from the impromptu press conference she had held earlier to announce the partnership between Stark Industries and Advanced Idea Mechanics, and they were both lounging, biding their time for this exact moment. Pepper, the current CEO of Stark Industries, would naturally be livid that she had acted without her approval in such a manner, especially given how publicly she had done so. "Should I delay her?"

"No need," the blonde replied as he withdrew the narrow, syringe filled case he kept in his inner suit pocket and rose to his feet. "We anticipated this, after all."

"Try to be gentle," she said with a wince as she twisted in her seat to face the elevator, setting herself up so she would naturally draw the incoming CEO's attention the moment the doors slid open. "I'd rather this not be quite as… brutal as it was yesterday."

Aldrich, who had already begun to stride over to the elevator, glanced back over his shoulder at her with a raised eyebrow and disbelief evident on his face. "We're playing this close to the chest, love… I don't want this to be 'brutal' either, but we can't take any chances."

Doppelgänger glanced away from him, her face a mixture of grief, frustration, and determination. "Yeah… Yeah, you're right." She set her jaw, a glint in her sky blue eyes as she gazed out at the NYC skyline. "But doesn't mean I need to like it."

He said nothing in response, instead planting himself flat against the wall, slipping his shoes off, and focusing his attention on the elevator to his right. They didn't have to wait long, as a moment later, the elevator doors slid open with a hiss, revealing an obviously frustrated Pepper Potts. "What were you thinking?!" she fumed as her eyes locked onto Doppelgänger. Seething, she began to stalk towards the fake, her pumps clicked rhythmically against the floor as she closed the gap between them. "Tell me, Megan, why you thought it was a good idea to do this without consulting me first? I mean, good god, I hadn't even heard from you about how the presentation with Killian went; I had to hear about it from Happy. How can I run this company when you do shit like this? We're still drowning in the fallout from our prosthetic line being used to _mind control_ people! Do you have any _idea_ what this is going to do to our stock?"

"Pepper…" the target of her ire said in a placating, apologetic tone as the redhead reached the couch she where she was seated and stood imposingly over the still seated fake. "I'm sorry, but I need to do this."

"Why?!" Pepper asked in exasperation, "Why do we need this partnership?!"

The seated woman gave her a sad smile as Aldrich swiftly slipped the needle into the redhead's neck, depressing the plunger in the span of a second. Pepper whipped around, anger in her eyes, but froze in shock at the sight of the blonde. Though she had met the man many years ago, she never would have recognized him but for having already seen the teleconference where Doppelgänger introduced him and his think-tank. "Ahdriiich?" she said, the slur in her voice catching her off guard. "Whaaa is dis?"

"You misunderstood her, Pep," the man said with a winning smile as the CEO slowly sank to the ground as the tranquilizer worked its magic. "She's not sorry about the partnership. She's sorry about what we're going to do with you." By the time the blonde finished speaking, Pepper had already lost total control over her muscles and could only stare, her crystal blue eyes wide open and unable to close. The still fully conscious CEO was internally screaming, trying in vain to move something — anything — in order to escape, but she couldn't so much as twitch a finger. Like a true sadist, his smile never faltered as he knelt down next to her and began to probe her arm with his finger. Eventually finding what he was looking for, he slid a different needle into her, this one half full with a glowing, fiery red liquid. "See, we needed your _complete_ cooperation, and there was no chance you would work with us if you knew what we were doing." Rather than immediately injecting the brilliantly colored liquid into her, Aldrich waited patiently, humming a jaunty tune under his breathe as Pepper's blood flowed freely into the container, dark red slowly mixing with its brighter counterpart over time, ultimately reaching a solid shade of red somewhere between the two extremes of the original substances. Once the mixing was complete, the blonde withdrew his syringe case from his suit pocket once more and laid it on the ground next to him. With practiced precision, he plucked out a syringe containing a liquid matching the one in the syringe still sticking out of the terrified redhead. "Luckily," he continued, sounding for all the world as though he were chatting with the CEO over coffee in a cafe, not playing doctor with her immobilized body, "we have a workaround for that." He slid the newest syringe into his victim and depressed the plunger, forcing the liquid into her.

Doppelgänger watched with barely concealed horror as the redhead began to soundlessly writhe as the Extremis began to change her body. _This is almost worse than it was with Megan..._ she thought. _To suffer that much but be unable to move, not even able to scream... God I wish we didn't have to do this!_ The pigment of Pepper's skin and hair was darkening, and her frame was slightly shrinking, most of the change in her height.

As the changes began to slow down, the elevator door slid open, revealing a tanned woman with hair dyed a dark red. The newcomer quirked an eyebrow as she stepped into the room, her chocolate brown eyes fixed on Pepper, whose body was now settling into the visage of a middle-eastern woman. "Got the blood already then?" Ellen Brandt inquired as she moseyed over to the still kneeling Aldrich and held out her hand.

"Naturally," he easily replied as he removed the syringe containing the mixture of Extremis and Pepper's blood — the small hole in the transformed woman's arm instantly healing over, the bright red fire of Extremis thrumming underneath her skin as it did so — and placed it into the woman's waiting hand.

The redhead turned her attention to the syringe, flicking the side of the plastic with her finger. "Mmm... Here's hoping this doesn't hurt as much as last time, yeah?" she muttered, her features resigned Without waiting for a response, she adjusted her grip on the instrument and shoved it into her arm, quickly injecting the entirety of the liquid into herself.

Doppelgänger swiftly rose to her feet and practically fled into the bathroom, as seeing two such transformations in quick succession had made her queasy. About a minute later, as she flushed her upchucked dinner down the toilet, someone lightly rapped their knuckles against the door. "Just a sec," the fake called out as she picked herself up off of her knees, adjusted her suit, and hesitantly made her way to the door. Gripping the handle with her shaking hand, she pulled open the door, revealing the smiling form of none other than Pepper Potts.

The redhead smiled wickedly, ruining the illusion with a gesture so foreign to the CEO's face. "How do I look then? Pretty good, right?"

"You... look good, Ellen."

"Well, don't you sound unsure?" she replied, her now blue eyes narrowing indignantly. "Well, whatever," she said dismissively, turning on her heel and stalking off. "It's not like I want your bloody approval anyway. Boss just wanted me to check on you while he made a call."

"S-sorry!" the ravenette apologized, but Ellen was already well out of sight and either didn't hear her or, more likely, didn't bother replying. _Smooth. No doubt the real Megan would've handled that a lot better,_ she thought to herself, unaware that Megan likely would have reacted much the same way in that situation. She sighed, before steeling herself and moving back into the room where she knew Aldrich was waiting.

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><p><strong>Sunday, December 25th, 2005 10:40p, EST | Washington, D.C., an alcove near a homeless shelter<strong>

"Was any of that unclear?" Loki asked, a hint of strain in his voice as he focused the last of his mana into maintaining his magical barrier. "Because we don't have much more time."

"Call up the mana, don't dive in headfirst like last time, and use it to blow a hole in the wall," Megan recited. "And for the record, I still think this is bat shit crazy."

"I still don't understand what bat shit has to do with our situation," the trickster drawled, "and if you have a better idea, I'm prepared to listen."

"Don't worry about it, and I've got nothing. I'm entitled to think the plan is crazy, even if it's our only option." She took a deep breath and reached into herself, coaxing out her power. The electricity came to her a bit easier this time, but her anger still welled up enough to nearly make her growl. _So I need to blow a hole in a wall using just electricity, however I refine it... _Unconsciously, thoughts of her old suit's repulsors came to mind. _Yes! I think that's something I can do. At least, I don't think it's outside my affinity._ She shrugged before lifting her hand, baring her palm at the wall she was going to destroy. _Only one way to find out._ With a thought, the power thrumming beneath her skin began to flood into her outstretched hand, causing her palm to crackle with electricity and glow an electric blue. "Woah..." she murmured at the sight. Her focus lost, the magic sizzled into nothingness.

"Sooner would be better than later," Loki snapped out.

"Don't get snippy with me," she bit back, snapping her head to face him, her eyes glowing electric blue with anger.

"We can be angry with each other later," he answered, swallowing his pride as felt his mana reserves empty. "My mana just ran out."

"Right," Megan relented, though she was still silently seething. She turned her gaze back to her hand and focused her mana into it once more, the power answering her call more swiftly this time, fueled by her anger. Her palm glowing once more, she took a deep breath, focused on what she wanted to happen, and willed her mana to do it, knowing their escape depended on her.

It worked: The gathered electricity shot out of her palm into the wall, blowing a huge hole in it, just as a hand mounted repulsor would have. Some people out on the street beyond the wall screamed when they heard the explosion, and Loki's wall chose that moment to fail, but the blast had filled the air of the alcove with dust, providing the duo with a brief smoke screen to obscure their actions. Without a word, Loki grabbed her, tossed her onto and across his shoulder (Eliciting a surprised and indignant squeak from her.), and bolted through the newly created hole. Blessedly, everyone in the house seemed to have vacated it in favor of joining their neighbors on the street outside, so nobody was around to witness the green clad trickster fireman carrying a pissed off, petite woman as he hauled ass through the structure, searching for the best way to proceed.

Ordinarily, he would have just cast an illusion on the two of them, like making them invisible, and simply waltzed out onto the street and away from scrutiny. Given his current lack of mana, however, he knew he would have to innovate. Instinctively, he distanced himself from the hole Megan had just created, buying them as much extra time as he could muster.

"Go up to the roof," Megan said as they slid into a hallway plastered with a truly unfortunate choice of wallpaper and a plethora of awkward family pictures that only members of the family itself could possibly find less than creepy, though most of the latter had fallen clean off of the wall from the shockwave caused when she had created their makeshift entrance into the abode. "There's probably a roof access."

Loki didn't know exactly what a 'roof access' was (Though thanks to the wonder of context clues, he had a very good idea.), but he followed her suggestion without comment. This was her world, not his, and time was of the essence; he knew better than to question her right now. He saw stairs at the end of the hall and immediately dashed towards them, his leather boots pounding against the hard wood floor in resounding clunks. Even though he wasn't as physically fit as his Asgardian contemporaries, he was nevertheless superhuman and swiftly made his way up the stairs, passing clear by the next floor, where a TV could be heard in the background. "—rorist organization 'The Ten Ri—'" Megan, not missing a beat despite their travel speed and her human heritage, blew the locked steel door at the top of the stairwell clean off its hinges with another electric blast as soon as it entered her line of sight.

The pair burst out onto the icy roof, and after a quick glance at their surroundings, she pointed at the roof of the building behind the one they were standing on. "Get onto the ground on the next street over. We can blend with the…" She paused, casting a look at his attire. "No, you'd stand out like a sore thumb if we did that. Second thought: Still go that way, but stay on the roofs and get us far away from here." He took a second to adjust his hold on her, shifting into carrying her bridal style (Megan pretended to be studiously watching ahead for trouble, but really, she was doing her best to hide the faint but warm blush that had begun to light up her cold skin.), and launched into action once more, dashing across the rooftop and took a running leap onto the house facing the parallel street before taking a sharp right and continuing along the row of houses. _It's technically a good thing he's carrying me… There's no way I could keep up with this pace! We're crossing, what a rooftop every handful of seconds? So it's good he's holding me. It's a good thing. Really._

Five minutes, nearly sixty rooftops, and a few intersections later, she gave him the go ahead to cease their frenzied flight. "We should be far enough away now. Unless someone caught a glimpse of us and has given a really good, really brief sketch to the police, they won't be looking for us specifically at this distance, and that's assuming they're even looking for _people_."

The trickster came to a halt on the next rooftop, made his way over to a relatively ice-free area, and carefully placed her down, the perfect gentleman (Which made sense, she decided, since he had been brought up as part of a royal family, even if it _was_ a completely different society.). "So then," he said, sounding for all the world as though he had been taking a leisurely stroll for the past five minutes. "What's our next move? We clearly _will_ need a more secluded place to continue your training, seeing as you are drawn to chaos like a moth to a flame."

"Well," she began, a thoughtful look on her moonlit face. "We're in Washington D.C., which doesn't exactly have a lot of 'secluded places,' at least when you take into account just how secluded it'll need to be if I do that again…" She glanced up, her sky blue eyes seeking out his pale green ones, the moonlight giving them an odd, luminescent quality. "What did I do, by the way? You said I 'skipped a step,' but what does that _mean_, exactly?"

"You quite literally skipped a step in your training," he drawled. "Typically, training of how to use one's mana properly begins with very basic use of one of your affinities, the goal being to get you used to the feeling of how your mana flows within your body. Later, once you have a solid grasp of the first step, you trace the stream of your mana back into your reserves, the goal being to familiarize yourself with all of the facets of your mana, particularly your affinities and how great your reserves are."

"Ah," Megan murmured. "So _that's_ what that was… I honestly wasn't sure what to think. This has been a hell of a crazy night, but still, it's not every day that you go from standing in an alley to being in the thick of a raging tempest."

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly at that. "A tempest? So lightning and wind, likely, but… Was that all?"

"Yes… Why? What should I have seen?"

"You are certain you saw no fire anywhere? Completely positive?"

"Yeah," she replied, thinking back on what had happened. "No fire at all. Just a lot of lightning and wind, like you said."

"Interesting," he commented, before trailing off into silent musings. _But then why do I see fire when I look at her channels?_

She wanted to press him for more than that, but it seemed like he needed to think more on the matter, so she let the matter lie. Instead, the faint sound of a woman speaking on TV caught her ear, peaking her interest. She initially could barely hear what was being said, but once she focused on it, she found it seemed to become much louder in her ear. "—ust joining us, authorities have confirmed approximately fifteen minutes ago that as a result of the latest Mandarin attack, President Ellis is dead. I repeat, President Ellis is _dead_. Vice President Rodriguez is being sworn in as we speak and will address this tragedy live in just a few minutes here. In the meantime, we'll… Actually, President Rodriguez is beginning his address now. We'll be back shortly." A few seconds later, a man began to speak, his tone grave and heavy. "My fellow Americans, it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that my great friend and this country's lead, President Matthew Ellis, is no longer of this Earth. Earlier this evening, Miami authorities responded to reports of a massive harbor fire. The origin of this fire was the oil tanker Roxxon Norco, and…" He paused briefly, collecting himself before continuing. "And President Ellis, who was chained in place aboard it, was burned alive." Even though she couldn't see him right now, Megan knew what Rodriguez looked like, and she could practically see his dark brown eyes hardening as he spoke his next words. "This horrific crime was perpetrated by the terrorist organization 'The Ten Rings' by the order of its leader, the man who calls himself 'The Mandarin,' as part of his sadistic killing spree, which he has been calling 'lessons.' My fellow Americans, this is my answer to The Mandarin: The United States will not let this stand. I swear, as the President of this great nation, that my administration will not rest until we find you and bring you to justice. You _will_ answer for your crimes — your so called 'lessons.' There is nowhere you can hide — nowhere we cannot find you. So prepare yourself: Your judgment day is coming."

_Holy shit,_ Megan thought to herself as the feed switched back to the news anchor from before. _He _killed_ the President? 'Judgment day' indeed… _She paused, before grudgingly admitting to herself, _Still, even if the Mandarin's a sick fuck who needs to be taken out, I have to hand it to him: He's got a serious sense of poetic justice. A fire aboard the Norco — the ship involved in that huge oil spill where no oil company executives went to court for even a day…_ The sound of a police siren caught her ear as one began to approach along the road below them, coming from the direction of the alcove. In the distance, she could see more, all fanning out and in various directions. "Loki, we need to get out of this city altogether. An explosion on the night the Mandarin assassinates the President? The police are _definitely_ going to be investigating after all."

"You still haven't said where we're going," he answered as he pulled out of his own thoughts, his eyes still curiously looking at her — _through_ her, really, or so it seemed.

_Fuck, we really can't afford to stay _anywhere_ in or near D.C. The police — hell, even the military, maybe — is going to be on incredibly high alert for anything suspicious. Loki seems to be a fast runner, but still, there's got to be a limit to how long he can run, and he isn't incredibly fast either. So we need to get far away, and we need to do it fast… Ah, of course. _She glanced at their surroundings again, smiling as she noted their exact location. "See where that airplane — err, that, uh, big metal… bird — is?" She pointed due west where, conveniently, a plane was taking off. "We need to go there and hitch a ride on one of those. I don't know what options we'll have to choose from, so we'll have to figure that out when we get there. Conserve whatever you can of any replenished mana; we'll likely need to… coerce some of the employees there."

The trickster rolled his eyes before drawling, "I do know _some_ of your culture. I told you: I did my research."

She laughed at that but was cut short when Loki, once again, swept her up into a bridal style carry without warning. "Fuck, Loki! A little warning next time, maybe?"

One of his perfectly shaped eyebrows quirked up, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Maybe," he answered as he took off running across the rooftops once more.

She lightly smacked his chest. "Prat," she muttered, a small amount of warmth slipping into her tone as she said it, despite her best efforts to keep it out.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, April 1st, 2001 12:10p, EST | Miami, Florida<strong>

"C'mon, 1968…" Maya chanted either a vain attempt to comfort herself or to encourage the plant — she wasn't really sure which. _Maybe just whichever finds an answer to this dilemma? Fuck knows I'll take whatever I can get at this point…_

She checked the instruments she had attached to 'plant 1968,' the same plant from the day she perfected Extremis. At least, that's what she had thought at the time. A two days ago, however, she had observed some strange developments in the plant: Namely, it had begun to glow and emit heat. The changes were slow at first, only low level emissions of light and heat, but the symptoms had grown steadily worse over time. She had been awake, studying the symptoms and working on creating an antidote since it all first began, and she was unfortunately having no luck at all. This time, she had given up on treating the symptoms themselves and had focused on their cause: Extremis. Several dosages of the chemical, which she had been carefully analyzing, were lying nearby, awaiting further testing. She knew it would likely be futile, but she was trying anyway. She needed to find a cure soon; plant 1968 wasn't the only thing exhibiting the symptoms.

"It's not working, Maya," Aldrich said, his tone tense and filled with panic and his volume steadily growing as he spoke. "It's not fucking working, just like the other 'antidotes' you made! Why the _fuck_ isn't it working?!"

"If I knew why, then we wouldn't be having this problem," she retorted, doing her best to keep her tone calm. The last thing they needed right now was for _both_ of them to lose their heads. _One is quite enough, thank you very much…_

The blonde slammed his clenched, glowing fist into the metal the plant was lying on, leaving a red hot dent in the surface, making Maya jump in surprise, and sending a resounding bang throughout the room. "Well figure it out!" he snarled viciously, his normally dark blue eyes glowing, brilliant red cinders mirrored his current ire. "I'm telling you, I feel like I could ex—" He trailed off in horror as cracks began to form along the surface of the plant, ominous red light gleaming out of them.

Maya was no fool. She had seen this over a thousand times; 1967 times, to be exact. "Shit!" she cried out as she leapt to her feet, grabbed the pot containing plant 1968, and bolted in the direction of the blast container she hadn't used since the previous October. She may have been out of practice from months without having to dispose of a plant ready to explode, but she _was_ practiced at one point, and her quick reaction neutralized the immediate problem. Rather than exploding in her face, like the plant she'd had in her room when she first met Megan Stark, she managed to throw the pot into the blast container and seal the door in the nick of time. She didn't watch the violent explosion through the container's viewing glass, as she might have done last October, since she still had a huge problem on her hands: _Aldrich!_

She whirled around to face her lover, her brown tresses flowing with the movement, and found that, yes, his skin was beginning to crack. He was moaning, calling her name as he collapsed to his knees, his pain clearly visible as his body began to break down. _No!_ She dashed over to him, ignoring the danger of approaching a living bomb. He was _her_ living bomb, and she had seconds left to fix him before he died violently, taking her with him. There was no time to analyze formulae, to synthesize a potential antidote, to do anything other than _act_. _What can I do?_ Time was slowing down as she skidded into place next to where he had collapsed on the floor. _The Extremis is going to…_ Her honey brown eyes widened, twitched to the right, and landed on the dosages of Extremis she had been testing. Before she could even process what she was planning to do, her hand rocketed out and snatched one up, the syringe gripped in her palm so her thumb was on the plunger. With a quick kick to his sternum, she knocked Aldrich off of his knees and onto his back, leaving only a tailored, white shirt between her and his chest. The cracks of light could be seen through the material covering his chest; she knew she had no time to even tear off his shirt.

She slammed the needle into his chest, planting it through a large crack over his heart, and depressed the plunger.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, June 30th, 2005 07:11p, EST | Warren 77, NYC<strong>

"I've gotta say, this doesn't really seem like your kind of place, Meg," Clint said as they took a seat at one of the few two person tables in the sports bar, Megan a tad more gingerly than her companion.

"Normally, it wouldn't be," she quipped back jovially as she twisted her swivel, barstool style chair to face him. The brick walls of the building were covered in framed pictures and well-placed HDTVs, and the furniture laid out was clearly designed for a party atmosphere. A din filled the air thanks to the packed clientele, who were either engaged in watching the games displayed on the TVs or enjoying the company of good friends and good food. Snatched up one of the menus lying on the table, scanned it briefly, and pointed at one of the listed foods. "Blame these. Happy got me some of their beer battered onion rings, once upon a time, and I've been kind of hooked ever since."

"If you don't mind parting with some, then I'll try one of yours," he replied. "I'm generally not big on onion rings, so I'd rather stick with something else for my meal."

"Sure, no problem," she easily responded. "I chose this place for another reason as well, though," she continued before leaning in close enough to whisper to him. "It's—"

"The perfect place to have a semi-confidential conversation," the blonde interjected, knowing what she was about to say. "I figured that was the real reason. Anybody watching us, who doesn't already know us, will just think we're an intimate couple. And even if they did know who we are, they wouldn't be able to hear anything thanks to all the noise." He winked, belying the tension that hung in the air between them.

"Will the student ever surpass the teacher, I wonder?" she joshed as their waitress, a perky woman with bleached blonde hair and breasts that seemed entirely too implausible (_She looks like she belongs at Hooters…_ Megan thought.), took their orders. Clint, who had obviously not taken the opportunity to seriously peruse the menu, snatched it up and ordered the first thing he saw that looked like it might taste good to him: A steak sandwich. Once the waitress had flitted off to the next table, Megan continued, her tone serious but her face carefully kept cheerful, "So tell me: What's the word at work?"

The sharpshooter snorted, before wearily running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "And you think I'll tell you? How has your recovery been, by the way?"

"If you thought I needed to know. And I'm still quite sore, but otherwise quite good."

"Don't you think _I_ would contact _you_ and not the other way around, if I knew something that I thought I should pass along? And if you're sore, should you really be going out to a sports bar?

She shrugged, unabashed. "I figured seeing me might make you crack, let something slip. And I caught a cab rather than walking over, so I _am_ taking it easy."

"Rather manipulative of you. And I suppose that's fair enough."

The waitress briefly dropped in, quickly depositing two glasses of water before dashing off once more.

"Well, I'm dealing with people who spy on spies the masters of manipulation on a global scale," Megan said, once she was sure no one could hear her, at least without using some seriously high end technology. "I think it's rather justifiable that I play by their rules." Clint opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, all of the TVs in the restaurant changed feeds simultaneously. An unnatural silence filled the room, leaving everyone feeling suffocated as an unfortunately all too familiar image appeared on every TV: Crossed sabers surrounded by ten rings, each containing an Arabic character. _Shit, I knew it,_ she thought to herself. _That explosion in Los Angeles _was_ another attack…_

"Mr. President," The unmistakable voice of the Mandarin rang out as the man himself appeared on the screen: A brown haired, bearded man clothed in robes of green and gold with a somewhat Asian flare, his hair pulled back tightly into a knot, and a ring on each of his fingers. Oddly, one of his hands was face up and halfway closed around something, obscuring it. "I'd like to tell you a true story about fortune cookies." He opened his hand, revealing one of the well-known foods. His lips twitched up into a creepy smile — the kind you would see on an axe murderer before he planted his weapon in a victim. "They look Chinese; they sound Chinese. But they're actually an American invention, which is why they're hollow, full of lies, and leave a bad taste in the mouth." He abruptly clenched his hand, crushing the cookie between his fingers, the white fortune slip sticking out through the crack between his fingers. He tossed the remains aside with disdain before he leaned forward slightly, his pitch colored eyes boring holes in the camera. "My disciples just destroyed another cheap American knock-off: The Chinese Theater. I hope you'll take my lesson to heart this time. Your nation is poisoning the world, and as long as you do, my cleansings will continue."

The interjected feed cut away, the original broadcasts returning, but the festive air in the bar had already been eviscerated. Friends were turning to each other, whispering in hushed tones, and many people were leaving money on the table and going home. Fear was evident on everyone's faces — everyone except Megan and Clint, who had turned to face one another with steel in their eyes.

"Seriously, Clint," she whispered harshly, deciding to forego being cautious anymore. "What the fuck is S.H.I.E.L.D. doing about this?"

"We're doing what you won't anymore," he snapped back before visually calming himself. "I'm sorry. That was… uncalled for. You have every right to live a normal life." He sighed. "After all, that's what we do, right? We forfeit our personal lives, fight from the shadows and do the unsavory work that lets everyone else keep living their 'normal lives.'"

She smiled sadly at the bitterness in his tone. "Yeah… That's what you're supposed to be doing, but…" She glanced up at the closest TV, where a minute ago she had watched the terrorist at the top of the F.B.I.'s most wanted share another of his 'lessons,' like a preacher delivering a demented sermon — like he was some kind of hero out to save the world from itself. "But you've got nothing on this guy yet." The sharpshooter said nothing, merely giving her a dark look, but she continued anyway. "You really don't, do you? So even the world's best spy agency has no leads…"

"Fine," he bit out, a pained look on his face. The bar was a ghost town at that point, but even still, he leaned in closer and spoke even quieter than they had up until that point. "Look, just… Fine. I'll tell you. We've chased down every possible lead, squeezed every possible source, and spent I don't know how much, and we've found nothing that I'm aware of. Not a god damn thing.

"Fuck," she breathed out in shock. "All of that and _still_ nothing? I almost want to believe they _aren't_ telling you everything because otherwise, that's a really scary thought."

The blonde stood up then, snatching up the jacket he had draped over the back of his chair. "Look, I should get going, okay? Do you want me to escort you back to the Tower?"

"No, no. There's no need for that," she responded as she whipped out her phone and electronically hailed a cab. "I'm sure I can make it home without the help of the world's most overqualified babysitter." She slid out of her chair, her dangling feet plopping down to the floor, unintentionally causing herself to wince and clutch at the table. "Ugh. Surgery recovery is ridiculous, but I can't argue with the results. A person is who they are on the inside, not the outside, but having a comfortable outside is a plus."

Clint smiled fondly at that. "Congratulations again. I know you've been waiting a long time to have that done."

"Thanks," she replied with a wide smile. Once they passed through the door of the bar — which he held open for her, eliciting a quick "thanks" from her — she suddenly asked, "Clint, I… I'm sorry. I can't help but feel like I let you down by quitting S.H.I.E.L.D.…"

"You didn't, so don't," he said immediately, sensing a ramble coming on. At her skeptical look, he continued, "Look, everyone has their breaking point. Back in Asgard, Bruce just helped you see that you were at yours. Although," he smirked, "I should add that if the world's about to be trashed because Loki brings another army or something like that, then I expect you to suit up, you hear?"

"Ha," she breathed out, relief creeping into her features. "Fair enough, on both counts." She opened her mouth to say more, but nothing came out as she suddenly began to reconsider asking her question.

"Oh, just spit it out," he quipped at her fondly with a cocked eyebrow. "You look like you'll implode if you don't."

Nevertheless, she hesitated for a moment longer before finally saying, "I'm not a hundred percent sure I want to know the answer to this, but… I reached my breaking point after working with S.H. .D. for a year and a half, and you've been working with them for much longer. Where's yours?"

"Ah…" He leaned against the brick exterior of the bar, a rueful smile on his lips. "Yeah, I suppose that's fair to ask." He took a moment to collect his thoughts before adding, "I'll just say this: It's one thing to enter a line of work and later find your breaking point, and it's another entirely to enter a line of work _because_ you hit that point. You starting working with us because our paths kept crossing and you saw a benefit to helping. I, on the other hand, am part of the latter group."

Her jaw dropped a fraction at that, her shock evident. _Now I _am_ afraid to ask any more. I never would have thought…_

The sound of a honking horn interrupted her thoughts as a yellow cab pulled up, the driver yelling out the window, "'Ey, you Megan Stark? Your butler called me."

"Be right there!" she called out in response before turning back to the blonde sharpshooter. They met each other's eyes, a silent conversation passing between them in that moment. Eventually, she gave him a sad smile and said, "Thanks, Clint — for everything. I'll see you around, okay?"

He returned her sad smile with one of his own. "It's been a pleasure, Meg, and we'll definitely see each other later. Maybe next time we'll get to eat the bar food without a terrorist interrupting us." He winked, eliciting a peal of giggles from her, and they parted ways, her by cab and him by foot. Once she had slid into the cab and told the driver where she was heading, she leaned back into the squishy seat of the yellow vehicle, a soft sigh escaping her lips. _Yeah, hopefully they'll catch this 'Mandarin' guy soon. Though still… I don't like his tactics, but I have to admit he has a point: The world would be better off if certain people are purged. S.H.I.E.L.D., world leaders, politicians… just about everyone believes it. All they disagree about is _who_ should be purged…_

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, September 29th, 2005 11:33a, EST | The Triskelion<strong>

"That's all we have on 'The Mandarin' at this point, I'm afraid," Nick Fury said with a sigh. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think this man was a ghost. We're consistently coming up with nothing in our efforts to find him or people who know him."

Alexander Pierce sighed as he removed his glasses and wearily ran a hand over his face. "One last thing, Nick: Have you learned anything — anything at all — about the disappearance of Captain Rogers."

"All we know for certain is when and where he disappeared, but you already know that," the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. replied tensely and with no small amount of frustration. "Sharon Carter, the agent I had on surveillance duty for his apartment reported that he left for his typical early morning jog, and he never returned, having disappeared sometime after that."

Pierce stood up from his desk and moved over to the large pane window of his office, glancing down at the streets of Washington D.C. with a searching look, as if he expected to spot Steve at that precise moment. "Nick… We need to get these answers, and we need to get them soon. The council was restless enough after your 'Avengers' stunt back in April, but now that the Avengers are dropping out of the picture? They're frothing at the mouth."

"'Dropping out of the picture' is one way to put it," the director slowly replied. "Captain Rogers may be missing, but that doesn't mean the other five who participated in the debacle last April have gone anywhere."

"Haven't they though? Stark and Banner have cut off all ties, secluding themselves away in Stark Tower. Thor hasn't made contact since he left Earth with the war prisoner Loki. Romanoff and Barton are still accounted for, but we've already had Rogers disappear from underneath our noses. What's to say it can't happen with them?" He turned away from the window and back to Fury. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I picked you to be the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a reason, and it's because you get things done and you know when to get them done. I'm just trying to get across exactly what I'm dealing with upstairs."

"Yeah, and that time is _now_." He rose from his seat, putting his tablet into sleep mode as he did so. "Once we start finding those answers, you'll be the first to know." And with that, he turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

Pierce watched him leave, staring after him for half a minute before pressing the button on his desk that hailed his secretary. "Joanne, send in Sitwell." A few moments later, the dark skinned Agent Sitwell entered the room and took the chair where Fury had sat just a minute prior. Without a word, Pierce pressed a button on his desk, and the room entered into its security blackout mode, blocking all signals in and out of the room and disrupting the travel of sound waves from within the room to outside of it. "Report on the A.I.M. project."

"Killian and his think tank successfully acquired their next target, as you know, and are trying to replicate his powers. So far, they've had no luck on that front. The same is unfortunately true for their first target, as well. Progress is much better regarding the insertion of some their members into key positions of power without raising public suspicion. It's been approximately two and a half months since they successfully acquired Stark Industries through the insertion of their members, all without raising a red flag for non-Hydra members of S.H.I.E.L.D. Killian is currently requesting directions regarding how to proceed."

"Put pressure on them. They may be making progress, but we need them to pick up the pace. The sooner we have the world's leaders and these powers under Hydra's thumb, the sooner I can rest easy. Nick Fury isn't a stupid man; he's going to catch on eventually if we don't finish this project ASAP."

"Understood, sir."

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, December 28th, 2005 6:01p, EST | Somewhere in the Great Smokey Mountains National Park, TN<strong>

The occasional echoing sound of Megan shouting filled the air of the snowy forest, providing counterpoint to the crackling din of electricity. She and Loki had only been in the forest for a few days, having arrived at Gatlinburg-Pigeon Forge Airport early on the 26th and subsequently 'convinced' a trucker who was heading down to Route 321 to give them a ride. Loki had recovered some of his mana reserves by the time the trucker conveniently 'forgot' that he had given them a ride, but rather than creating an artificially secure location, he had insisted on a natural one in order to preserve his mana in case she flew off the handle again. Once they had found a suitable site, she dove into practice with a fervor reminiscent of the effort she had once poured into designing the Mark II, and over time, she made both great improvements and some that were less than great.

The area where she had clearly improved the most was accessing her mana reserves. Whether it was due to having Loki as her sole company or due to have so many reasons to be pissed off, she found it so easy to embrace the anger that persistently writhed within her. All she had to do was think about how she had been living the past half a year and who had put her in that situation; about how she had felt betrayed when none of her friends or family came to her rescue, despite knowing the likelihood of someone being able to find her on purpose was infinitesimal; about how she suspected she might never be able to truly feel whole again. It was very, _very_ easy to find reasons to be angry.

With such readily available access to her mana, she was able to practice whenever she wanted, which quickly led the pair to discover her second strong point: Her mana reserves were _tremendous_. 'Whenever she wanted' had more or less translated to every waking moment (And her infamous insomnia had been rearing its ugly head.), but she never felt the strain of her mana emptying away despite such en masse use. Loki hadn't been very surprised, simply remarking, _"I suspected that was the case,"_ and nothing more, leaving Megan miffed that he hadn't told her in advance and that he wasn't explaining _why_, exactly, he had suspected it.

However, despite having such huge reserves and ease in accessing them, she had found that she had trouble developing new ways of using all of that power. The problem wasn't imagination — she had that in spades; rather, her mind was simply too _active_. Ordinarily, the sheer number of ideas racing through her head at any given moment made focusing on a single one difficult but not impossible. When one introduced mana into the equation, however, the difficulty increased exponentially, since it required an extra push of focus that she simply did not have. The only magical feats she could successfully and regularly perform was shooting electrical blasts like she had back in D.C. and making her body relatively invulnerable. She suspected she could handle these in particular because she was so familiar her suits' repulsors and protective armor, but she could only speculate.

Well, speculate and fume, which was why she was presently shouting in frustration as she channeled her mana, electricity flaring all around her, as she tried in vain to hover. "Fucking hell, why isn't this working?!" she screamed in frustration, finally giving up and viciously kicking the ground. The forest floor was quite hard on account of the onset of winter, but on account of her mana-fueled durability, she neither felt a flicker of pain nor was injured in the slightest.

"I've told you the answer," Loki drawled, a bored look on his face and his pale green eyes idly scanning the sky from his perch on a nearby fallen log. "Yet you refuse to listen to reason."

She fixed the trickster with a glare but swallowed down her retort, knowing he was right.

"_Why are you trying to pour more mana into a failed spell? I told you days ago that there are four limitations to using one's mana: Size, ability, imagination, affinity. The first limitation is only concerned with whether or not you have enough mana — not how much you can pour into a spell. Producing a given effect requires a specific amount of mana — no more, no less. Such is the nature of equivalence."_

She seethed as his brief lecture flitted through her memory. "I know all of that, but it's instinctive. The only ways I've been able to use my mana so far have all been related to my suits, so in theory, I should be able to fly. The fact that it's not working, when by all accounts it should, just makes me want to try harder." She sighed bitterly, flopping down onto the snow coated ground without a concern. She picked up a handful of the white powder with her bare hands, brought it in front of her eyes, and let it slowly filter through the cracks in her fingers, gently falling through the air into her lap. She wished she could enjoy how temperature resistant her durability made her (Loki, unlike her, simply didn't mind the cold because it was one of his affinities. _"If it were hot out," _he told her at one point, _"then I would be quite uncomfortable unless I expend enough mana to keep me cool."_), but she had been yearning to fly through the air once again. She hadn't experienced the freedom of flight since she stopped using her suit after Loki's assault on NYC, and her time in a male body had made the feeling of being constricted significantly worse.

"It may be that it's possible for you to do but is tied to your affinity for wind," he suggested with a shrug.

She snorted at that. "That would suck, but it's certainly plausible, given that I've had basically no luck creating any." Indeed, despite her alleged affinity for it, the most wind she had been able to summon up was a light breeze — nothing even remotely in the ballpark of the massive electric fields and blasts she cast without issue thanks to her affinity for electricity. Loki had assured her that it wasn't unheard of for mana users to be unable to tap into some of their affinities until they mastered others first, but it was little conciliation. _That doesn't help me fly _now _though…_ She glanced over at her companion and noted that he was clearly getting stir-crazy. Not that she could blame him; they hadn't deviated far from their current location once they settled in, and the forest was exceedingly dull in the dead of winter.

"Let's get started," she abruptly blurted out, causing him to blink in confusion.

"With…?" he questioned, one of his eyebrows slowly rising.

Her expression darkened, her eyes glowing ever so slightly. "Taking out Killian and that bitch pretending to be me."

He smirked at that, before teasingly replying, "And here I thought you might have forgotten."

She smiled maliciously at that. "Hardly. I just wanted to wait until I had at least _some_ grasp on this casting magic business." Her lips twisted into a smirk of her own before she added, "It's a tad new to me, as you may recall. I'll understand if you're having a hard time remembering, old man."

The trickster snarled at her, springing to his feet and staring her down. "I am _not_ old, you foolish Midgardian!" he bit out angrily, his nostrils unconsciously flaring somewhat. "I am only a few centuries shy of a millennium, a _very_ respectable age for my species!"

"And in my species' years," she retorted as her smirk grew even wider and taunting, "that makes you _old_, so get used to it, _old man_."

Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously, his hand twitching as though he would like nothing better in this world than to shove an icicle through her skull. "You are positively infuriating," he replied, his calm voice starkly out of place with his poisonous glare.

The petite genius laughed openly at that, remarking, "You get used to it, or so I hear," before giving him a playful wink.

The trickster actively fought the urge to snort at her. _I would have never thought that I would enjoy being around someone as brash as her, especially since I detest Thor's impetuous, cocky attitude,_ he thought to himself._ And yet… I am. _He pushed the matter aside for the time being, thinking, _This will require more thought and introspection, but this is not the time. For now…_ "Time will tell," he simply replied as the sharpness in his eyes faded away. "For now, how would you like to proceed?"

Megan pouted somewhat at his refusal to rise to her bait, but she too quickly returned to the much more pressing matter. "I think the best course of action for now would be to go back to D.C. That's where that sick fuck injected me with Extremis, so we might be able to get some intel there."

"Intel?" he asked, confused by the unfamiliar term.

She rolled her eyes affectionately, somewhat surprising herself with the feeling behind it, before quickly explaining, "It's slang for 'information,' often used in reference to knowledge about one's enemies." Once he nodded, silently affirming that he understood her, "It would _really_ help to know what the hell we're dealing with. It's been almost six months since they displaced me, and while they couldn't have gotten _too much_ in the way of resources out of my company without dealing with Pepper, I have _no clue_ what A.I.M. had at their disposal at any point. That's a hell of a blind spot, and fixing it could help us figure out the best way to approach them on a macro — err, _large scale_, that is — level."

_Perhaps this is why I'm growing… fond of her. She's a cheeky shit at the best of times, but she's a _brilliant_ cheeky shit._ "I agree. It's a very sound approach. We can take the head of the beast later."

"Excellent!" she replied before lightly frowning and adding, "Although there's one… potential problem we need to account for."

"Being recognized, yes?" the trickster asked. "I was about to bring the matter up myself."

Her frown reversed direction, curling up into a small, pleased smile. _Always good to know I'm not the only person in a group who's worth anything at strategizing._ "Did you have any thoughts about it? There are some more… mundane approaches we could take, but as the resident 'master of magic' (She barely resisted the urge to giggle at herself for quoting what he said before her first mana use lesson. She suspected, quite correctly, that doing so would elicit displeasure from him at the very least.) with an affinity for illusions, I figured you probably have better solutions."

"Well," he murmured after a taking a few seconds to mull over some ideas. "First, I should point out that permanently transforming your physical body in the same manner as I did when I restored your female body would not work. It only did so then for very complicated reasons."

She shuddered before snapping out, "Don't even _think_ about it, mister! I only just got my body back, so I am _not_ okay with you doing that in the slightest." She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, shivering despite being unaffected by the objectively cold temperatures. "To be honest, I was rather hoping you'd have something more _temporary_ that you could do magically. Something that could be easily turned on and off. I…" She cringed slightly but proceeded anyway. "I don't even really like the idea of using certain non-magical, temporary means — like hair dye (At his nonplussed look, she hastily added, "There are ways to change your hair color without magic, and dye is one of them."). Even if it was the type that washed out immediately, I would really _really_ like to be able to reassure myself I'm still me on a moment's whim."

"Fortune smiles upon you," he replied smugly, "as I know something that will meet all of those needs." He savored for a moment the relief and thankfulness that visibly washed over her at his words, pleased (Strangely so, or so he felt.) that he could generate such a reaction from her. "Temporary illusions placed directly on a physical form are obviously possible," he continued, illustrating his point by briefly changing her skin color orange before restoring it once she noticed, "but since you want to activate and deactivate it at will, it would require less mana to conjure an item for you to wear that will apply a preset illusion to you when you do so. Say, for instance, something like this." With a simply gesture from his right hand, a full-face mask appeared out of thin air in his left. Its silver-colored metal material made it somewhat shimmery and reflective, and when she looked at it with particular focus on feeling any magic, she could feel the faintest threads of its magical origin. Although she couldn't know for certain until she wore it whether it would fit her face's every contour perfectly, she strongly suspected that it would. (_Because magic, baby_, she thought to herself.) "The only question," he finished, "is what the illusion should be."

Her jaw had dropped at the simplicity of it all. "Wait, you can enchant this to change how I look only when I wear it?"

Mischief danced clearly in his eyes as he simply replied, "Size, ability, imagination, affinity."

She burst into laughter at that. "Touché!" She took it from his hands, handling it with something akin to reverence. "Thank you, Loki," she murmured after a moment of staring at her distorted reflection in the mask. "This is perfect."

"Don't thank me yet," he drawled. "We still haven't tied an illusion to it. The only thing I've done so far is conjure a mask."

She opened her mouth to reply before her eyes suddenly danced in delight, a wonderful joke occurring to her. "Oh my god, I'm being given a mask by Loki, and it will transform me when I wear it. Is it going to make me a green guy (She unconsciously shuddered at saying that part, despite knowing she wasn't serious and that his actions and words indicated that he wouldn't do such a thing to her.) in a yellow suit?"

He stared at her for a moment, completely nonplussed, before finally replying, "I'm going to presume this is another of your 'pop culture' references, and that you do not honestly believe such a thing is going to happen." When she gave him a shit-eating grin, he muttered something unsavory beneath his breath as he brought his focus back to the mask, his eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. After a moment, his facial expression relaxed as he said, "There, give it a try."

Despite her best efforts to not show how much doing this was affecting her, her arms and hands trembled nervously as she slowly lifted the silver mask to her face. When it was only an inch away she took a deep, steadying breath, steeled herself, and practically slammed it against her flesh, her nerves not allowing for anything less. Even though objectively she knew that she had felt nothing change, she began to hyperventilate, collapsing to her knees as she began to feel dizzy.

"Megan!" she heard him yell before suddenly feeling warm arms latch around her, a strength belying their appearance holding her in place as she began to keel over onto her side.

It took a minute, but eventually, her hyperventilating subsided as his presence strangely began to comfort her. _Why?_ she asked herself. _Why is he making me feel like this?_ She had no answer for herself and eventually settled for simply filing the matter away to be looked into later. "S-s-sorry," she finally managed to stammer out as her breathing finally reached a more natural rhythm. "I didn't… Fuck it, it's scary, okay? Even though I can just take the mask off whenever I want, it's still fucking scary to be anyone other than me right now, you know?" She tilted her head back, daring to look up into his face, to see the leer that she was certain was there, to face the expected 'You are weak' with her face held high. Expectations were different than reality, however: The trickster was gazing away into the forest, his embarrassment at their proximity apparent and, more importantly, a hint of understanding in his pale green eyes. "Loki?" she breathed out in wonder, mentally chiding herself for sounding so thunderstruck. _Allies or not, this is _Loki_. You shouldn't let down your guard!_

Unfortunately, such thoughts were hard to maintain when he finally tore his eyes away from whatever imaginary object he had been studiously examining and tilted his face down to face the shorter woman, her sky blue eyes drawing him in even as his cheeks grew redder. "You are unfortunately familiar with the experience of having to live in a body not your own against your will. It is… expected that you would be anxious about anything even loosely related." He glanced away then, the redness of his cheeks reaching a peak as he muttered, "Are you able to support yourself?" When she slowly and slightly nodded, her eyes never abandoning his face, he carefully released his grip then abruptly stood and moved away, turning to face any direction that didn't include her. "So you know," he said, discomfort still tainting his tone somewhat, "The mask isn't actually changing you. I felt it best to merely tie an outward illusion to it that doesn't affect us."

Her jaw dropped, though the mask did not fall off, magically held in place and adjusting to the movement. _Was he seriously this thoughtful on purpose? That's… actually really sweet._ "T-thank you," she muttered, her lips curling into a soft smile as her own cheeks dusted with pink, not that he could see. "Knowing there's no physical change makes me feel _a lot _better."

"Excellent," he replied, a certain degree of pride slipping into his voice. He turned back to face her, his expression schooled, giving nothing away. "I thought as much. Are you ready to return to your city of Washington, D.C. then?"

She carefully considered that, checking to see if there was anything that might give her away if they ran into the wrong people. First, she knew she would like someone else to other people. Also, her clothing, which the trickster had conjured for her aboard the plane at her request, was entirely different than anything she would usually wear: An electric blue babydoll tee that brought out her eyes (Though she knew the likelihood that this was the case with her mask's illusion was slim.); a short collared steel gray jacket with long sleeves, the half inch collar extending straight up, just off of her neck and the long sleeves covering her arms down to her wrists; and slim and comfortable charcoal jeans that fed into her tall, black combat boots. All that really left was a similar disguise for him and…

"Our names," she said aloud.

"What?" he asked, confused by her non-answer.

"We can't just keep using our real names," she explained. "If S.H.I.E.L.D. is listening in and hears us calling ourselves 'Megan' and 'Loki,' they'll start paying closer attention to us than we want them to."

"That seems ridiculously paranoid," the trickster argued. "You really think such a measure is necessary?"

Her expression darkened. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is _always_ listening. They found out about my plans to construct my combat suit before I started to build it. I am _not_ being burned like that twice."

Although his expression said he found the notion dubious at best, he carefully replied. "If you think that's best…"

"I do."

"Very well. What are we to call ourselves then?"

The rumble of thunder overhead drew their eyes skyward — Loki because the sound still made him think of his 'brother,' and Megan because she was growing to love the hallmark of her affinity — as a flurry of wind sent some of the powdery snow around them swirling into the air. She slowly smiled as she watched the flakes dance hypnotically in the sky as they fell back to the Earth. _Well, we have our affinities, don't we?_ "Tempest and…" She tilted her head, pondering for a moment before adding, her eyes alight with mischief, "Sleet?"

"You honestly expect me to answer to the name 'Sleet'?" he asked derisively. "If you wish to be called 'Tempest,' that is your prerogative, but I refuse to be called something so ridiculous as 'Sleet.'"

She gave him a wry grin, quipping back, "Aw, are you sure? I think it's both fitting and rather cute."

He met her laughing eyes with a dark look. "No."

"Spoilsport!" she joshed, giggling at his expression. "But seriously, 'Loki' still won't do. Is just 'L' okay?"

Loki barely resisted the urge to groan. "_Fine_," he ground out. "Now may we please get moving?"

'Tempest' pushed herself back up to her feet, dusting the snow off of her now quite wet jeans. "Lead the way, Mr. L!" she cheerfully replied. Without warning, a snowball smashed into her face, causing her to sputter indignantly. "Hey!"

By the time she wiped the snow from her eyes, Loki had already begun leading the way back to the highway. "Of course, Ms. _Tempest_."

She rushed to catch up, a silly grin on her face as she replied, "Oh, no need to be so formal! 'Tem' will be just fine." The trickster didn't bother to dignify that with a response.


End file.
